A hand was placed on a grave,
My OWN grave,
My mind was stuck in emptiness,
While my soul was leaving me... Slowly...

The craft was placed in a broken shaft,
The anger... The pain... The dying within,
Was killing me faster than a naked eye,
My heart and pain felt like a lie,
In the back of my head i wanted to die.

I dug out the dirt and pulled out the coffin,
Only to see a manikin holding a bloody rose,
The madness is falling close,
I can feel it creep in my spine like a demon..
The flashbacks of the past,
My legs are feeling like a blur fast,
I start to feel this is my last.

I begin to look up at the moon to find a peace of mind,
The demon soon turned kind,
But only for awhile till it comes back,
And then I will end up with a heart attack.

Stress can work you up,
Pain can slow you down,
Depression can make you frown,
And the demon is your fellow friend
Called anxiety...