Saturday, Oct. 12, 2002 | 10:04 P.M.
sickness
People walk by
And stop to talk.
They see a happy person
Who is soo caring and thoughtful
That there would not be a sickness growing
Growing inside them.
No one knows about this sickness.
The mear thought of this sickness,
Sends chills throughout the body.
Cold sweats cover your body
While fulfilling this sickness.
After finishing, hate is all that remains.
This sickness grows and grows over the years.
After some time, it is hard to control this sickness.
It comes and goes as it pleases.
It gets harder and harder to supress this sickness.
Asking for help is out of the question,
That would mean telling someone,
And the thought of telling someone...
That thought never enters.
More and more...
This sickness grows...
And fear grows.
Fear of what people will think
If these people knew,
Will they change the way they talk,
The way they look,
The way they act...
The only way to escape is to sleep,
Or to fulfill this sickness.
Someone must know about this sickness,
But who?
Who will still love you after knowing this?
I am scared!
Will someone help me...
Please...