Time to see a psychiatrist
by songofjoy
Too many things going on
Too much that I want to do
Not enough of me left
Purpose is a long off dream
I lack the energy to imagine
I can feel my brain is melting
My soul is slipping
I don't think I'm asleep anymore
I think I'm dead
But maybe the mania will creep in tomorrow
And my spirit will return to my bones
And my sweaters on hangers