What is this thing called pleasure?
Surely this feeling must be insane.
It feels like I may actually be able to breathe again
To see things for what they are, to be again
These yellow and green pharmaceutical sweets are at it again
I wonder if it’ll even mask the pain
And if so, when
But if not, I wonder if my soul will always feel vacuous and plain
Or is that just a ploy for all my turmoil within
Will the voices start again, or will I learn to understand this game
This thing called life
That always seems to cause one strife
Maybe I’ll learn to take pleasure again, even if these sweets turn sour
I just hope death meets me at the right hour
Because anymore extra time on this earth seems dire