You sit there and tempt me
Every night when I’m empty
You are supposed to be helpful
Unless I take you by the handful
One each morning by the mouth
Is supposed to stop my feelings from going south
But somehow they get there anyways
To a place that’s cold and dark and gray.
Sometimes at night I wonder if there even is a light
If maybe this is it, and I should just give up the fight.
One each morning is what the doctor said
But why do I spend every night crying in bed?
Sometimes I lie there, hopeless, and full of sorrow
thinking that I could take them all, and just swallow.
And sometimes that seems like the only way
Because these thoughts just never go away