Fix (a poem)

Mess. It's me.
How can you fix a mess carefully?
When the mess have always lingered emotionally.
Spreading like a virus in my physicality.

It's hard to begin a journey for wellness.
When it's all dark. No brightness.
Hoping to someday see some clearness
Because I'm so blinded that I can't see my own happiness.

Someday, somehow, I will find out why
my life isn't so align.
I am blessed that I'm alive
despite all the feelings I keep inside.

I am just a mere speck of dust
who needs the magic of a pixie dust.
I barely lived my life and yet I'm dying.
Would it really be so bad to ask for a little fixing?