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it's a constant struggle,
striving to achieve the seemingly impossible.
i could turn out like Sixto,
but i don't have the talent, neither do i have the sensitivity.

sometimes i stay in bed for days when things don't go my way.
i let my illnesses get the better of me.
but i am human, so fragile.

tell me this is only a nightmare.
hands everywhere, hands that deflower me, rob me of my sense of self.
the road to recovery is too long and it takes only a second to give up.

feelings no longer make sense,
warriors fight alone.

i am
i am
i am every day, all the time
but who?