I can only get up in the morning
Because of a tiny white pill
I had to accept that I’m ill
And it sometimes gets worse without warning

I know so many more who are broken
They tell me what they’re going through
I listen, what else can I do?
For what good is a word when unspoken?

I could write a long list of their stories
And wonder if they’re still alive
For most of us lack any drive
So we might just give in to our worries