I’ve got that kind of anxiety that only a drug overdose can induce,
I’m fading faster and faster everyday, just a victim of my own abuse.

Reality is my foe, denial is my cold companion, “I don’t have a problem,” I like to pretend.
But, when I look in the mirror, and see my soulless eyes staring back, I know I’m in the deep end.

I want to hush my mind; I try to put my thoughts to sleep,
I fall back onto my pillow and drown in a blackness viscous and deep.

Just like sleeping beauty, I arise from the dark realm, but this is no fairytale.
I don’t wake up to Prince Charming, I wake up to skin that is cold and pale.

I’m finding it hard to cope, but I fight the urge to drink what’s in my cup.
I don’t want to be the sleeping beauty who never wakes up.