She lives inside my body like an unwanted house guest ; unwelcome by all.
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.
I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that Iíll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.
There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think thatís what hurts me the most, that I will never be a mom to children of my own.
Everyday is a constant struggle between my bed and my depression,
And I am the poor punching bag.
I like to talk to god most days, thinking maybe he will cure me.
But he never does.