Welcome to my hell, close the door,
I'm in a place I've been before.
Tears roll down cheeks, now red and sore,
Each represents a memory stored.
Alone all night, my eyes stay wide,
Behind my eyelids, nightmares hide.
Under my shroud, I try to hide,
This, my Armada at low tide.
Sleep will not come, nights filled with dread,
My body weak, limbs feel like lead.
Not strong enough to support my head,
So heavy lies on feather bed.
The tablets, from the bottle roll
Into my mouth, destroy my soul,
To reach what seems an impossible goal,
Make shattered mind and body whole.
A prisoner to this treatment bound,
Can what is lost, at end be found,
Or in this low tide shall I drown,
In salty tears these cheeks roll down.