Broken

I feel the cold fingers of anxiety squeezing my heart,

How can such a pleasant feeling hurt so much?

The whites of my eyes turned scarlet, and I wish it was from being high,

But my numbness has your name, and that's what I dream about when day turns to night.

People ask me what made me so happy,

I say I'm treating myself, with a new type of therapy.

I'm looking for a cure but I can't find it,

It would be nice to have the “eternal shine of a memoryless mind”.

Something broke yesterday, and I know no one is willing to fix it,

But it's okay, I'm used to picking up the pieces.

My secret garden will remain closed, because whoever had the key is gone,

I'm not being dramatic, I just can't feel this way with anyone.