Twixt An Abyss and a Small Star

A cold December day, the label I give, the obvious and trying times, a total understatement I feel I'm sinking into quicksand bowing to the creator of the pressure, the aggravation like a faithful knight to his liege Am I complaining, it may prove to be so in spite of how subtle I'm trying to be in assessing the small issues, the little things troubling me This is not my day, what I've said since I opened my eyes it's one more day where I'm not really living just a spectator behind rubber glass watching, with popcorn in hand, time eating us alive despite the countless, useless things we do to progress, survive How can I coincide, coexist with the rest of my life I'm twixt an abyss and a small shimmering star twixt happiness and a quiet storm of rage The way out, sealed shut by an iron shelf The way to be me, it's been erased; I've been brainwashed The way to breathe, there is none; overdose on nitrogen I'm solemnly drifting from the shore screaming for someone to save me from the darkest space, darkest place, darkest corner of my mind but it comes out as a whisper The abyss is calling, laughing maniacally as it swallows me whole while the small star weeps...twixt some place I fell...