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Diseased
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The Rest My blood burns with this illness
That drives away my desire.
I am tormented by the stillness
That I need but fail to aspire.
The fever obscures my vision,
So nothing now is clear.
I already made the decision,
And the consequences I no longer fear.
The cure to this can never be found,
When in searching I’m the only one.
Into oblivion am I bound,
Where of happiness there is none.
I can never give enough to please
The malicious intent of my disease.
