No matter how much I drink,
No matter how many pills I take,
No matter how deep I cut myself,
I always seem to wake.

The sound of my alarm forces me to cry.
Why do I keep waking up when I want naught but to die?

I lay here and suffer, day in and day out,
Deaths healing embrace I am forced to go without.

I'm already dead inside, but the body just can't tell.
Here I rot and wither, inside my living Hell.