Was it me?

Who wrote this was it me
Did pain really take over
And let these words flow
Just like a river rowboats and all
Perhaps I’m an outcast
Perhaps I’m the same
I suppose well never know
Until these doctor stop playing games
And get down to diagnosing my sickly body
I can’t imagine what else they can possibly find
Whether I live or whether I die
At least my writing is immortal
And will keep my spirit alive

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