I can't come down from this tower,
I'm held here by a curse's power.
I just stare at the stars in the midnight hour,
But I long for the ground, to touch a flower.

I struggle to eat, can barely drink,
I crack open a book, drown in ink.
But it's clear to me that I'm on the brink:
Of sadness.

                                                   I can't get out of bed, or in the shower,
                                                    I'm held here by my own self's power.
                                            I stare at the ceiling until an ungodly hour,
                                    My mind beginning to wilt like a dying flower.

                                        My confidence and my heart begin to shrink,
                                   But growing still are the ***** plates in the sink.
                                           I continue to breathe, but I am on the brink
                                                           ­                                      Of madness.