Slipping.

I can’t see; I can’t breathe.
I’m lost; I’m gone.
I feel sick; I’m going to lose it all.
I’m quitting, I’ve quit.

I’m sick in the head; I’m stupid.
I want to choose the choice I know you’ll hate.
I’m dizzy; I can’t even stand.
My mind is going blank; does that mean go?

Would you notice that I stopped responding?
I haven’t been able to pick myself up for days,
I don’t know if I can go on like this.
I don’t want to be seen in this depressed state.

I can’t hold a thing anymore; I watch it all slip through my fingers.
More and more things slip away and the pieces of my heart break even more.
My heart’s on the floor; my stomach is in my throat.
I can’t handle it anymore, as I fall to the floor.