Tick tock tick tock
The sounds of the clock
The only sounds I hear as I drift
In to this dark place
Dad, calls it therapy
I call it the 5 stages of hell
1 the therapist will think let me speak to you softly as to not scare you like you're some fragile toy not knowing you can't be frightened any more

2 oh 2 she thinks you trust her she thinks you don't know about the secret meetings or the Money exchanges out side of the agreement,
Yes I'm sick yes we know

3 I will tell you only but what I'm told to speak
Watching videos on  how fooling you into thinking "I'm better" works go ahead diagnose me I already know what's wrong it's okay take a guess

4 she'll tell you what she thinks is wrong tell you why you do what you do. Most likely it's a disorder because nothing can go unknown and nothing can be unlabeled
There must be medicine she must be insane

5 i walk the same streets except they arent streets they're gravel infested walk ways filled with fire
Demons being terrified of what lurks in the abyss I call a brain
This is what hell would feel like if any of this were true