Technically it's two hundred and four
Since I closed the door
And started appreciating myself
Instead of being a book on your shelf

Pulling the reins
I wondered how it made you feel?
I kind of thought it was the deal
To reverse the damage of what
I thought was ideal
But it's taking forever to heal
And nothing can ever give me back my tears

On day one hundred and eight
I lied awake
A burning ache
Couldn't get out of it straight
On the sideways I swayed
And still a part of me waits
for hours of bitter taste
As time wastes
I'm not better off as I claimed