I question what it could be sometimes,
Fathom the ideas in my head-
All strange, and unruly, and unheard of by the people around me.

I wonder if I'll form a herion addiction like my father,
Or take up coke instead.
I'm proud that I've yet to try, but my insecurities rule over all

I don't know what to expect with myself anymore.
What I'm going to try next,
Or if I'll die from lung cancer when everything I've tried before
Catches up to **** me.

Or if the medications the doctors put me on will go through
All those adverse side affects
And **** me themselves.

Or if my mind finally gets to me.
Finally kills me, ends itself.
One second there and the next gone.
It's too much to figure. I can't handle that thought.
It's been here too long,
It's an old friend.
I hate it.

My downfall is too many things,
Myself, the outside, the feelings that plague my being-
The insecurity...

It's too complicated. It's too exhausting.
I'm tired. Maybe that's my downfall...

The tiredness fueled by the unfathomable idea of it all.