I hate to wake up to eight ton weights,
A chest plate pressed up against my face,
Eyes dart and heart race like you've been chased,
For days in a gaze that shows your amazed,
Deemed this was depression detaining me,
Deliberately dozing to escape memory,
But right off the bat it's a panic attack,
Maturity rewinds and minds all off track,
Rational depersonalization,
Constant nauseous dizzying rotation,
Locate lower lacerations that bled,
Flop to the floor and felicitations, you're dead.
An aubade about the struggle.
