It begins to pain me to walk. I can’t even begin to fathom what it’d be like to talk.
I slowly get up out of my chair. I brush away a loose strand of hair.
Putting one foot in front of the other. I begin to wonder why I even bother.
Wanting to just lay down and die, I sigh. Then I do my best to try.
I try and survive, with all my might. I’m growing weary from another fight.
To my friends who see me smile, do you see the pain? Can you tell me what there is to gain?
Three little blue pills, swallow one by one. Swallow until they’re done.
I can’t create happiness on my own anymore. It left me and walked right out the door.
It pains me to say medication controls me now. But I agreed to it, like taking a vow.
I see my cross tattoo on my hand. It reminds me of what He has planned.
I don’t know the reasons, I don’t know the cure. But I will survive, this I know for sure.