I’m trapped in a room where the door is open but I can’t get out,

I’m screaming my head off but no one can hear me shout,

I’m struggling to breathe but there’s plenty of oxygen,

I crave an escape from this concrete metropolitan,

Blinded by this plastic smile they can’t see I’m stuck in my own personal hell,

I’m walking around frantically trying to get someone to notice that I’m an empty shell,

Tragically, I’m physically heathy with food to eat and a family yet I can’t seem to stop thinking about ending myself,

What’s wrong me, that I can’t be happy when I literally have nothing to be sad about?

But that’s the thing the numbness, you can’t stop it, it doesn’t discriminate,

It doesn’t care whether your a man, a women, a criminal, or a saint,

It just wants to fill you up till you can’t get out of bed,

It makes you a prisoner inside your own head,

Who could I tell? How would I explain it so someone could understand when I don’t even understand,

When I’ve succumbed to the madness who will lend me their hand ?

So I don’t tell anyone & suffer in silence, when the thoughts start creeping up again,

I smother them in cigarette smoke wishing I had prescription for Xanax or Vicodin.