dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s three in the morning, you’ve woken me up
i sit on my bed with nothing but this pen and coffee cup
you’re at the front of mind, putting pressure on my forehead
i want to sleep it off, but you want me dead

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s four in the morning and i have tried to fall into a slumber
but every time i close my eyes you appear and just make it harder

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s five in the morning, i am feeling quite harmful to my wellbeing
you’ve pushed yourself through the surface of my skin and I can’t help what i’m seeing
you’re so dark, so scary; your fingers are course as you run them along the surface of my wrist
and you tell me words, saying my death will be forgotten and unappreciated just like mist

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s six in the morning and I’m debating a future i cannot see
i’m letting you win, you’re words have made me believe i’ll be free