Every day; every waking moment of this momentary existence.

My body is slowly killing me.

This can't be real, this empty shell... isn't me.

Have I truly given everything I am to appear alive and well? 

Every day, every waking moment of this life,

 Sick, Weak, Dizzy, Helpless.

But I smile beacuse you expect me too,

becasue my pain isn't caused by a physical ailment.

My pain is invisible.

My body attacks itself, it can't control certain things.

In a way I am at war with myself, I'm in a constant battle to stay healthy.

But I have nothing physicaly wrong, so I must be fine.

Lazy, Unmotavated, Attention Seeker.

So I smile, and work myself until I collapse.

I pretend to be fine; because I have no physical faults,

But the truth is I'm just an empty shell, waiting for the pain to end.