You say help but no one responds, you want to trust but all you see are cons. My life is a mess and it's all my fault, though the reactions of others are their own default. I'm controlling but it’s quickly getting out of hand, they say that all I need is a man. There's no gender to claim and yet you scoff at the change of my name.

Time heals all wounds, cut too deep and your body becomes your tomb. Three times the charm but I'm still alive, you think praying will help revive? I want to die; I hate my life! My illness makes it too hard to deal with strife. Don't pat my head, don't say "it'll be alright" send me back to the ward, my freedom had already died.