Strike a Match
All I can taste is gasoline.
Fumes billow out as I breathe.
Strike a match.
Strike a match and watch me burn.
Maybe then they'll learn
What it's like to be me.
Always filled with deceit.
Who wants their receipt?
They say I need therapy.
Fix up the demons that live in me.
Their names are anxiety and depression.
God knows I've tried
To make my fire strong enough
To destroy what lives in my mind.