Maybe it's fear,

maybe it's hope,

but it's drawing near,

and getting hard to cope.

I know I seem happy,

almost everyday,

but telling people I'm struggling, almost makes me feel sappy,

and I still feel this way, no matter what people say.

It's starting to get better,

just like the first time,

but sometimes I feel sadder,

which makes me miss my prime.

When we were young and cheerful,

without a care in the world,

times were wonderful,

and now I'm forced to be curled.

Almost like a ball, that no one wants to see,

because no one wants extra weight to hall,

and sometimes, I wish I'd fall from the tree.

I miss the time before,

when everybody was friends,

when we weren't in a mental war,

I almost hope it all ends.

But we'll make it out alive,

just like those before us,

we'll jump into joy, maybe even dive,

until we turn to dust.