But you still see me as something like an Alien because I'm sick in the head.
I forget things.
I have nightmares from two wars I witnessed and helped out serving in.
I carried my best friends out in body bags.
And you want me to act like you?
You want me to be like a proper person. To walk, talk, and keep all my feelings inside.
I'm sorry, but NO.
I won't be like you.
That would be fake.
Which would be lying.
And where I come from, we don't trust a pretty little liar.
You all can say I've lost my mind, but it's still all there.
I tremble at the sound of a gunshot, or even a fire-work.
The mind sickness isn't what setts me apart, it's you.
You set me apart from others, in my own little group with the veterans and others who served or even others who don't.
This is my life. But I'm torn down by people who tell me what I can't do.
Why don't you tell me what I can do?
Only the Devil knows, if you're Sick inside too.
Only one person knows your pain. And one person only knows mine. Me and my army boy.