...

It's a curse,
It's a terminal sickness,
I try,
To self medicate this madness,
That gives me insomnia,
That makes me blind,
Giving me mild paranoia,
That plays with my mind,
A heart attack,
Combined with this addiction,
Dependency on you,
Diagnosed fatal attraction,
That give me fever,
High and low,
Drops of sweat,
Like tears of sorrow,
I am told there is no remedy,
I die slowly.
-Rona Llanos '02