Illness of my mind

Sometimes I wonder what the illness of my mind is.
Maybe it’s paralysis from a heartbreak
Or diabetes from too much love.
Or maybe it’s crippled from birth
Too little oxygen in its brain since it evolved?
Or maybe it has cancerous cells spread all over it
From the pollution of all other devilish minds around.
Maybe it’s got acidity from the sour taste of hatred
Or shreds of fungus grown from idly sitting about.
Sometimes I wonder what the illness of my mind is
Sometimes, I wonder if the disease is, in fact, me.

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