Underneath the wreckage of anxiety and panic attacks,
My dream is buried,
Somewhere deep down in those shacks.
It's a dream I had when I was a little boy, bigger than myself,
Life had seemed easy,
And I had hoped to achieve it without help.
Only when I grew up did I realize how wrong it was, my life's impression,
I began with a dream but soon,
All I was left with was my depression.
I was alone with no hope of ever finding a way out of this wreck,
I wasn't weak,
I did fight it for as long as I could, heck!
But the beast that's depression is nothing to joke about,
It's vicious and it's cruel,
It won't let you go no matter how much you shout.
It'll suck the very life out of you and it doesn't know how to rest,
Soon, I was tired to my bones,
I had done my best.
Now, I'm ready to give up on my dream and my life,
Because what's the point of having a dream...
That can't even survive.