In an Attempt to Fix Me

There's a censored box in front of my mouth that says, "I'm fine"
An editor that runs behind me, fixing every line
Blurring out the gun beside my head
Cropping out the pills beside my bed
In a desperate attempt to delete the unimaginable
But the unimaginable is the only thing I find fathomable
For they can't filter my mind or find a cure for my thoughts
They can't take back what the creator bought
I can't even scream for help before they put me on mute
I'm a sad melody played on a silent flute
A ticking time bomb with a painted-on smile
A masked promise that I'll be here for a while
They bump and they blur, they clip and they clean
But what will they do when I'm behind the scenes?
When they turn their backs and I conquer my quest
With blood flooding the floor, will they still clean up my mess?

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