If I could ask you a question - 

do you think you would humor me?

How do you think my depression

will end up devouring me?

 

This sickness inside my stomach

is all from inside of my head.

Around me, my life has plummet -

I really could just drop dead.

 

Like picking up a puzzle piece 

so sharp it cuts your hands like glass.

If only these thoughts would cease.

I'd throw away my shattered past.

 

Despite it all, I fear I've treated you

in ways that I can never undo...