counting days

if I could go back, I’d find a different way to relax

the solution became the reason for the panic attacks

I've been to my own funeral, always dressed in black

the sidewalks I walk crack because of the impact

how do you not see the irony of your secret deed?

I’m writing a book that I’ll be the only one to read

without the poison, I’m scared I won’t succeed

I swear I could do it if my mood swings agreed

the obsession stole my soul when I was ready to go

the anxiety tells me something that I already know

how do you grow when the bar is set so low?

I started counting days a long time ago

I don’t want to talk about it anymore

that’s what your therapist is for

I don’t even remember the before

it’s all just a pain you can’t ignore