Nothing goes out.
But nothing gets in.
The price of a synthetic,
pharmaceutical skin.
Never awake,
Not fully asleep --
Just barely lucid enough
To know it's not what I need.
You pass a day, a week,
a month, even - a year.
Yet nothing can change in me.
This stagnancy is what I fear.
A balance elusive,
Is it made-up instead?
Of these small, chemical battles
That rage war inside my head.
I don't know why they're fighting
I don't know who will win --
But I know just now I felt a warm breeze
As it moved across my skin.
I felt a sun ray,
And saw the sunset
As the light was growing dim.
The whole world looked on,
As it's only continued to be.
The whole world hasn't changed much
But, for now, I can see.
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