In the guise of love, you\'re my lingering disease,
A parasite feasting while I\'m begging \"please.\"
My heart is famished, starving for a touch so true,
I swallow your poison, thinking it\'s love\'s due.
You\'re my fever and my ache, my never-ending flu,
I confuse your toxins for medicine, thinking it\'s from you.
Your hands are like symptoms that weaken and break,
Yet I stay, thinking it\'s a condition I must take.
Your words infect, corroding my self-worth,
A slow-spreading plague, stealing my life\'s mirth.
\"You\'re unlovable,\" you whisper, injecting your lie,
A toxic dosage making part of me wish to die.
I\'m held in this sickness by my own desperate need,
To feel love\'s warmth, to see a healthy seed.
It\'s not that I love you, but my craving for love\'s light,
That keeps me tethered, enduring each painful bite.
But deep within, a dormant immunity lies,
A glimmering hope that one day will rise.
Could I find the strength for a dose of self-love,
The potent cure, to push and finally shove?
For now, I\'m your host, where your sickness thrives,
A part of me withers, while another part strives.
But the question remains, like a diagnosis unclear,
Will I find the cure before I completely disappear?