Still
Still. Affects Me.
Just like paint under paint, under boarded up doors.
The leeching doesn’t stop.
When I was young, the paint was already crusting over.
It was done already, no one understood.
I know it does.
Affect Me.
I don’t really know the extent of it.
Like water damage.
Or hurting damage.
It’s just my mind which causes new creases in my actions.
The greasy, bristly Me.
It was done.
I turned 21 and the boarded up doors started creaking.
All the bad things in me that didn’t yet make sense.
It’s all about a diagnosis.
It was just me growing up.
In the quietness which no one tried to understand.
Then they painted over that again.
Splashed paint around ineffectively.
It should make sense!
What Still Affects Me?!?
They say I’m as cured as I’ll ever be.
The diagnosis…
Leeches through.
Is as thorough as…
Paint splattered ineffectively.
Which somehow Still Affects Me.
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