I count every step between
My past and the present.
Wondering if the road less travelled
Can finally bring me rest.

Rest--

If you could even
Call it that.
My tossing and turning
Borderline convulsions.

Bad decisions cant
Close the distance

So I dont turn to the bottle
In fears that Ill drown
In a silver *** sea

I guess it all comes down to
Sink or swim?
Can I hold myself a float
For another hundred steps?