There is no medication that can cure broken and neglected. It can only
help disguise the pain, perhaps manifest anger into a synthetic, unfocused
form of "happy".
It is me.
The caustic smell of depression, lingering amongst the fumes of a decaying
life.
A riddle that cannot be solved, I have all the wrong answers.
Those memories I wish away seem to always be lurking a little closer in
the shadows, never far from my thoughts. The most frightening monsters
are made from the remnants of a past I cannot change. If ever there were
any good memories, they have fallen from my head like leaves in autumn,
crushed beneath the stomping feet of my nightmares.