In an all white room

The think bubble consume

Waking and sleeping on repeat

what is the defining of complete

Surgery has done a number

I use to be a jumper

Each pill and day seem to take me away

Everyone caught up in display

So numb to the pain

Let me decide how to maintain

Old pieces are dying

Silence is me crying

For joy or sadness

My come up is your madness

Inside lies the pieces of mystery

Need to know only will access my history

Legacy in the make

Don’t let my injury fool you; I am awake

Mark this as plausible

God has always made impossible possible

To the foolish, I decay

To the wise, I stay.