grab that bottle of pills, prescribed to me
treating my crippling anxiety
open wide, two down the hatch
but there is a little catch
slowly killing me from the inside
sooner or later my brain will be fried
but on this medication I have to rely
otherwise I get afraid I may die
i get afraid of talking aloud, expressing myself
anything conceivable scares me to death
so i swallow them down day after day
otherwise i'll continue to just hide away
isolation and desolation
sad and scared feelings in manifestation
sitting down in a corner
afraid of the world
i know it's irrational
but why won't it stop?
it's only out to get me, step on me, hurt me
the pills want to help me, pull me up, help me flee
and that is why, when you continue to say
"they're progressively killing you, more and more each day"
as if i don't know that, i'm not that naive
to think that these magic pills that help me to breathe
only have pros and not any cons
thinking that they will do me no wrong
but if you were me, you'd do the same thing
it's excrutiatingly hard when you struggle to bring
yourself out of bed every single morning,
afraid of the daylight, you heed your own warning
afraid of everything imaginable
and so
whenever i struggle to get out of bed
i grab that bottle
and i open wide
and i throw two down the hatch