When I hold the knife that causes my pain
I don't think I have a right to complain
Struggling to get myself out of the bed
I sometimes wish it was a grave instead
What am I made of, if the simplest thing eludes me
I'm drowning, drowning, in my insecurity
If all I can do is write the hours away
What's the point, waiting to see the next day
If it's all going to be the same, again
Listless, choking numbness consuming my brain
It doesn't make sense, I try but end up here
Am I not destined to live away from fear?
This life, it hurts, I don't know what to do
'Get help', I'm told. How, I haven't a clue.