It sits there residing
Silently growing harder to ignore
The delicate decisions of my future
Should I continue working
Hours too long to count
Forgotten before they even began
Or rather an education
Degree built just for me
Which trade to begin
Journalism
Art
Gaming
Driving
Construction
Decisions decisions
Made never so easily
When your head is constantly itching
It's a merry-go-round
Chasing an itches shadow
But hey look at me
Money in my pocket
Probably no future
So why does she continue loving me
A has been poet
A wanna be artist
A not so good gamer
Accident prone driver
Failing painter
All I've ever done in life
Skate by with what I had
Never looking at what I could have
Yet this itch in the back of my head
Hazes my future
With questions causing ****** charges
As they stab me in the back
Closer and closer
Seclusion encompasses me
Overpowering burdens of juggling life
Why the **** didn't it come with a manual
But itches are itches
Not all remedies work
So I guess I'll do what works