Thought I was safe inside my mind,
Thought people were too scared of what they'd find,
To trudge through the fields of depression,
Leaving each horrific impression,
Scarred and scratched upon the glass surface of every thought,
Turning to ashes, slivers of emotion that can't be bought,
They think anti-depressants will end any kind of pain,
But I'm lost on the rough end of Memory Lane,
Psychoanalysed until I don't know who I am anymore,
What Exactly Are You Waiting For?
You can't heal or erase my kind of life,
Through medication, drugs or even knife,
None of the grey smoke clouds are silver lined,
I used to feel safe inside my mind.