Counting the tiles on the floor
Or the shapes on the door
Checking the lamp on the wall
I can't help but feeling empty
Feeling guilty
A great loss of time
I spent it in the bed worrying
On the sofa crying
Counting my heart's palpitation
In denial, daily escapism
I ruined myself
I'm done with the present
The future seems unreachable
Only the past matter
Regretful and nostalgic
Wondering if one day
There would be a time machine
I lost my sleep
Temporary distraction from pain
is no longer enjoyable
Life doesn't care about what you do
It's silently watching you struggle with the consequences
I can hear it uttering:
"You had your chance,
Your second and third,
Time out!
Fight or flight mortal!"
