I'm starting to wonder if this is self-destructive,
which tells me just how far past that I've gone.
If I repeat a bad cycle so much it becomes a part of life
then it's either heaven or hell, and this sure ain't bliss.
I batter and batter at myself just wishing it could end
just so I can get a few hours' sleep and start all over again.
I can't tranq myself, nor meditate, only exhaust all of me;
mind over matter's great until you're staring down two lions, 'stead of one.
I woke up to the setting sun again
Haven't seen noon in a week or two
My days are nights and night is endless
When you have nowhere to be and nothing to do
"Who are you but all the words
You never wrote, but loved"
My regrets whisper in my ears
Haven't left these walls in half a season
Wrapped in the safe arms of my fears
I read the same hundred stories
Same million words stuck inside my mind
I wrote the same poem a dozen times
I'm grey and frozen and I'm doing fine
This is an emptiness I cannot fill
A heaviness that I hope will
Weigh me down so I don't have to fight
And I drown