Mental Illness
Mental Illness.
Just too much of too much.
Carrying a huge wooden box containing a single apple.
Rotting, burning core.
Saying I would never beg for forgiveness again.
Then tipping the doll house over.
Mental illness.
You would think the “too much” would implode one day.
Never.
Just weaves rotting roots to grow higher.
Creaking sounds like memories if they could swallow.
Destiny is always around the corner for no reason.
And my destiny is helpless too.
Mental illness.
Creates.
Weird, unfurnished feelings.
Just too much of too much.
Mental illness.
I know where it comes from.
Maybe they’ll know someday.
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