grab that bottle of pills, prescribed to me treating my crippling anxiety open wide, two down the hatch but there is a little catch slowly killing me from the inside sooner or later my brain will be fried but on this medication I have to rely otherwise I get afraid I may die i get afraid of talking aloud, expressing myself anything conceivable scares me to death so i swallow them down day after day otherwise i'll continue to just hide away isolation and desolation sad and scared feelings in manifestation sitting down in a corner afraid of the world i know it's irrational but why won't it stop? it's only out to get me, step on me, hurt me the pills want to help me, pull me up, help me flee and that is why, when you continue to say "they're progressively killing you, more and more each day" as if i don't know that, i'm not that naive to think that these magic pills that help me to breathe only have pros and not any cons thinking that they will do me no wrong but if you were me, you'd do the same thing it's excrutiatingly hard when you struggle to bring yourself out of bed every single morning, afraid of the daylight, you heed your own warning afraid of everything imaginable and so whenever i struggle to get out of bed i grab that bottle and i open wide and i throw two down the hatch