fixed

my mind is a cluttered house
full of knick knacks I'll never use
but I can't bring myself
to throw them away

there is paint on the floor
and writing on the walls
and I know I need to clean up 
but I can't
you never know
when you'll need this stuff again

there are cracks in the ceiling
patched up with duct tape
but I'm trying to ignore those for now

don't mind the puddles of water
those are the tears
that managed to leak in
just try to ignore them
I'll fix it eventually

I know that it's broken
I know it's unstable
but I can't bring myself to clean it 
I don't want to change it

I'm used to the clutter
and the cracks 
and the tears

I'm used to my panic
my sorrows
my fears

what if I don't want to be fixed?

I'm afraid of being fixed