Vices

I have my vices. I have my problems.
I can't escape. I can't leave them.
I try to drown them, I try to leave without a sound.

I pull my covers up to neck. I keep my foot inside the blanket at all times.
I think the monsters hide under my bed... but they live inside my head.
In behind my eye lids. I'm reminded of every little thing that haunts me...
Every time I close my eyes to lay me down to sleep at night.

My vices are different from yours.
You think drugs, I think depression.
You think Alcohol, I think anxiety.
You think I do it for attention. I think I can't be saved.

"Not good enough" Is my last favorite sentence.
3 simple words that will destroy my insides.
Rip them from the bones, rip my hopes from my soul.

Ripped to shreds by the long, black talons of the demon I call myself.