The marks, jagged and red, evidence.
I need a way to make you see
that life is hard for me.
It isn't a matter of being in a bad mood,
and putting on a happy face.
It's a sickness, a disease.
I already feel chemically engineered,
like I'm not a child of God.
And I give my best, and I give it every day
What more can I give?
I have nothing left to give to you.
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