I don't want to be forgotten,
by the people who I have known.
I don't want to be the one who "might or could have been"
in history not yet shown.
Because I'm not there.
And of this fog with which I've been ensnared-
How to escape it, I am unaware.
For life I do not feel prepared...
And I am scared. I am scared.
Then I feel that jump in my chest
That always seems to get the best
And there's the quiet pitter-patter
That really doesn't matter,
The former's just withdrawal.
The latter means that I'm still living.
I wrote this on the paper by my bed
Where I sometimes laugh, and sigh, and weep, and sometimes wish that I was dead.
But the former's just withdrawal,
And the latter means that I'm still living.