Some days I still crave the idea of death
the escatsy that comes with having no breath

Some days I'm scared of the person in the mirror
maybe without tears her image would be clearer

Some days the voice in my head is the only thing I can hear
but I don't know if it's her or the silence I should fear

Some days breathing is a job with no pay
and I can't figure out why I still stay

Some days it's all just too much
but they tell me happiness is almost in my clutch

Some days I just want it to end
but they tell me my heart is on the mend

Some days feel like there will never be a next
but waking up is my godly hex