Worry.
Some kind of crippling sickness.
Holding on to my brain cells, if there are any left.
I must of held my breath too long.
Maybe that one time, when I was younger,
is the reason my memory is lacking.
Maybe through all my rebellion, this is my karma.

Because I can't remember exactly,
but I am worrying about it, nonetheless.
Those moments leading up to my defeat all shelter my vices,
the secrets no one knows about.
And I cannot remember any reasoning.

The anxiety of this flashback keeps me wondering,
will I ever stop the worry
about the things I can't change?
Or will I keep on
blaming myself for the things that have happened?

I'm disgusted with myself
as I am with all my troubles.
I'm ashamed of  things I've done,
the past is so hard to forget.
I want to change who I'm becoming
But I'm stuck on yester-years.
This is what happens
when I blame myself.