In the cold of the night,
Her fears bring her to life.
The thoughts,
The chills,
The spells,
The pills,
Can't keep her sane.
She begs the doctor to get off her back,
Because she can't pull the knife of darkness out of her back.
She claims that she's "just fine",
Pulls out the razor and draws another line.
She can't deal with this pain,
Yet I'm trying to keep her sane.
She takes all the drugs,
She follows all the orders,
But she can't be near me when I hold her.
Cause she's not her, and I'm not me.
She drives me crazy til I bleed.
"I don't want you to go away", she begs,
I compromise, saying I'll be there til my grave.
"You need to walk away", she pleads.
This catastrophy, this mess I see.
She loves me, she loves me not,
She used to love me, then she forgot.
Because of the thoughts,
Because of the chills,
Because of the spells,
Because of the pills,
She lost her grip on reality,
She lost her grip on me.
She shoved me away,
Because she couldn't watch me stay
Through the roughest of waves,
In the ocean of her dismay.

The only connection she had to life,
Was the one who tried to pull out the knife.
Me.
Myself.
And I.

**And now I'm gone.