They say not to let this define me,
But how can I not when it always finds me?
In the arms of my loved ones it finds me,
wherever I run to it finds me,
waiting for the moment I cower to devour me.
So I must stand strong, always.
It never ceases to amaze me how committed it is:
images of drowning with every shower,
thoughts of jumping from every building and tower.
I can almost taste the lead from every bullet
in every gun
on every holster--
I can picture my face on a memorial poster.
And even though I do my best to show her
that I'm trying,
these god damned meds just won't work
or make me feel worse, but I swear that I'm trying.
It's just that every day I wake up thinking of dying,
every night I go to sleep hoping I won't wake up,
but I swear that I'm trying. I swear that I'm trying...