The luxuries of being insane
When you’re brought in you lose your name
And now you’re room number 507
Clinical depression since age 11
Time is lost and you’ve soon forgot
What exactly was the original thought?
So, this place doesn’t hold many thrills
And everyone says thank god your Mom found those damn pills
You still want to forget you got caught
But it’s hard when clinicians force
You to remember the thoughts
That drove you to the point where you
Decided you’d be better dead
And every night you lay in bed
Staring at blank walls
Until you can fall into a slumber
Tucked tight under
White cotton blankets
You try to remember a time
When things had been better
But the fog that ripped and tour
Your life apart
Is too thick to see
Through this hellish spot we call
16
And yes I know my years are young
and i’ve still not seen
The happy days to come
But everyday i feel
The wight of the world pushing down
Because I take on too much
And I deny the love of the ones around
And I am the one who needs to make a change
So I don’t end up in room 507
Explaining my clinical deppression