Sometimes it's the little things
That cause the bird to cease to sing.

I'm painting a clown's face on.
To tell you nothing will go wrong.

But I've worn this face before.
It's deceit
Nothing more

Yet how I do this to someone so true
Someone that's you

It kills me to see you going down this hole
But to know that it will also break my soul...

To stay. To watch. To feel helpless.
Against a crashing tide of depression can I remain selfless?