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Birthday Crash Cart

Tomorrow is my birthday, and I’m running #35 high.
Benzodiazepines lingual, Ive been hiding that I’m Cardiac terrified.

Everytime I try, nothing ever fits right back into everything I was.
I’m no longer living
Look at my life.

Dying in unpaid ambulances
I hoped to no longer be her.
Brain tripping over my heart
It’s fine, I’m still alive right?

They promised I would stay,
Everything inside me not feeling well
Held together by everyone who’s never been there.

Always in sickness and no choice
Never made me rage
Until today.
Look at me
Lonely pathetic shit

Chronic sicknesses
Let me count the years
The business of dying
Keeps me within a remote departure.

They tell me only sick people live to see their death.
Well, Dysautonomia,
I know now you own me, and I will never be in the pulse of things again. 

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