Paint It Black

I used to feel safe, 
oblivious to the mess I left in my wake. 
Now I try to give more than I take.

But there’s more at stake 
than the nights I spent awake. 
It turns out I’ve got a selfish streak, 
and I repeat the same mistakes.

Seconds, hours, minutes, days.
I feel it slip, slipping away.

Did I mention that I’m fucking scared? 
I can feel the decay, 
but I can’t say it caught me unawares.
New bruises, new pills. 
Fate will not fight fair; 
the clock will not stand still. 
“Ask me why & I’ll spit in your eye.” 
We’re all still ill.

Today I felt the time slipping away.