I was.

I was living in a world of phantom collateral.
I was born in the arms of imaginary people.
I told the doctor with shrieking squeals,
'There's something wrong.'
He shook his head, no.
And played another cosmic song.
We all sang along.
Criminals are friendly,
Yet I can't seem to find a friend.
Still we believed it to be wrong.
So wrong, never strong,
enough.
Bury me,
Bury it,
Bury Her,
Follow along to the playful swan songs.