I work,

Not really at a job

or necessarily every day,

I just work at little side jobs doing physical labor:

Mowing, working on cars, yard work, you name it

I'll do it

But its just a simple slight seduction of a mask I wear

What I really want to do is lay in my bed and sulk,

Not do anything becase there is no motivation to get anything done:

You see,

I work for a different reason then you,

I work to hide my pain and real emotions

My stress and anxiety

My depression...

My depression...

My depression makes me want to sleep

It makes me want to do funny things

Things opposite of working

Things like sleep, sit completely still, do absolutely nothing,

Stair at the ceiling for hours on end

Get lost in how many souls I've hurt

How many times I've messed up 

How I always just always mess everything up some way

No matter how hard I try not to

My depression...

My depression...

My depression makes me not want to talk to anybody

It makes me worry about...

Nothingness...

It straps me in a chair, straps me down with barbed wire and feeds me 

Every screw up I've ever done:

And when I've had enough,

It forces more down my throat till the sorrow, stress, and anxiety 

All starts leaking out my Wrists and thighs like crimson waterfalls...

I've run out of places to relieve the pressure,

The anxiety fills my head and corodes my brain like the rain does 

To the statues in New York

So I work,

I hide it,

I keep it a secret and wonder if I could be saved,

So I work...