I seem to get used to it
The pain and pressure brought by my ambition
The relief and delight brought by the solution
Something changes unconsciously
When night comes
The beginning of my nightmare
Close my eyes
The fire with butterflies
My brain with obsessive thoughts
Open my eyes
I kick the quilt and hold myself tight
I dream about coming back home
When morning comes
No more dream
Just a supplementary story
And the reflection of stigma
No, not today
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