Tasteless

Mama, I suffer every night,

By no one else but my own mind.

My thoughts of the future,

My strategies of the past,

The next plans—and the next of it,

The last failures—and the last of it.

It all comes at once

And breaks me to my core.

The chaos it creates feels larger than life,

Making me soo dull

That I’ve started meeting people without a high-five.

Everything seems fuzzy,

Everything I doubt about,

Everything I feel confused about.

Everything sounds like a question

With no answers around.

Answer is what I am trying to find,

With all the strength and all the might.

But however much I fight,

Alas, I feel drained and lost by the night.