You said you were "Fine."
But I don't think you understand what "Fine" means.
It insinuates that you're ok,
Erasing the voices in your head that make your brain decay,
Causing a mass of anomalies to appear in front of you.

You told me you were "Fine."
But I've seen your wrists and I don't think they cut themselves.
It was all far too cliche for you to admit,
The fact that you need help.

'Cause I don't wan't to wake up without you,
Your bright smile makes my day,
And your soft words are of virtue,
That chase all the monsters away.

You cannot leave me now,
We're in too deep,
Both stuck in mud,
As the negatives devour our feet.