My mental health
Is far from sane
Books on the shelf
For days of rain
But I lose track of days
Caught up in the haze
Of the days that I miss
Far from my old bliss
Filling my days with pain
And so I sit in the rain
Waiting for puddles to grow
Into mirrors with my reflection
But even as I stare I'll never know
The reason for my mind's infection
Wishing puddles were lakes
So I could jump in and drown
Escape all the heartaches
See no sights and hear no sound
But the music in my head
Softly, sweetly pronouncing me dead

Today has started
it's already ended,
Tomorrow is here
it hasn't started,
Yesterday was here
now it's over,

Today was Yesterday
Yesterday is Tomorrow
Tomorrow will be Today
Yesterday,

Some days drift
Some days stay,
Some days laugh
Some days stray,

but in this day is not a day
in some way,
Some days
are just some daze

It's been seven days since the imprint stuck to my skin-
the scars still hold true to the nature of which they were born.
They were strategically placed upon spots I chose
their insides ran from my fingertips like they were proud of it.
But I was not proud of it.

It's been roughly 91 days since the pills lined my throat-
broke through the shell I hid the dependency inside
decided to try and make myself better.
It was roughly 40 days in I took regret to my skin
these pills reminded me what blurry feels like
these pills made me forget what I actually feel like
but I'm scared of what my body will do without them.
Ten days after that the cycle continued- Day 50.
I was back on the same track I was on six years, 2190 days ago.
The small shell of who I once was cradled in the corner
turned to stone and built a monument of my dysthymia
the mirror didn't recognize me, I could not see myself.
I watch myself in the reflection and try to remember who I am
the swollen eyes do not feel like the home I've built for myself
and it's been 2190 days since I've felt this exact way
the thought of nostalgia suddenly makes me sick.
I am wishing for the days to blend together again
for them not to be counted on more hands than I have time left
this isn't is an introduction or a preamble to my story  
this isn't even an epilogue anymore-
I wouldn't really call it a eulogy either.

It's been seven days since I took to my skin
the same way I did when I was just a kid
overcome with the idea of dying inside of my mind
and watching someone else die in front of my eyes.
So what is my excuse now?
Just raw emotion cutting into me like it's a slice of birthday cake
but this is no cause for celebration-
blow out the candles.
Break me down and hollow me out
disinfect these wounds so they will heal quicker.
The mania and the downward spiral are no longer holding hands-
they are jumping ship.
Dive in.

**...ly....****.
the way people follow rules you'd think they were written in sanskrit.
dis...re...spect
i think it goes hand in hand with lack of intellect.
huge...e...go
why people carry themselves the way the do i may never know/
va....ca...tion
i just want to get away and have a little fun
head....ache....dayze
without proper treatment the pain always stays
free...to...live
we need to get out and take this life for all we have to give.
not...much...time
gonna try and relax now that i'll close out this rhyme.