the "I"

that is i,
that is me

is sick
of being sick,

is sick
of the mania.

i do not know what i am,
i just know i know nothing.

this is the way it's supposed to be,
i  finally get it.

i never emotionally understood or imagined that every single one of my prayers could be answered,
but they were.

i wanted to leave,
so i killed myself

and god showed me what it's like
when you refuse to be.