Thoughts of committing forbidden,
rises with the rock,
as soon as sun reflects off hidden,
crushing barriers came the thought.
Rock's rise to its fall,
till dawn came upon,
wondered it all,
what's it like being gone.
Getting chair, drilled temples, OD, Botox or hang,
visual flashes everyday,
like a mosquito inside my head canned,
waking as soon as I hit the hay.
Pressure's mounting none to release upon,
had so called well wishers,
fortunately I mowed the lawn,
and now none's left to cement the fissure.
Reliving past with a foreseen future,
altering with a hit of a key,
various customizable features,
only if it was like RPG.
Maybe it's insecurity,
maybe it's grades,
maybe it's futurity,
maybe it's living of which I'm afraid.
those sleepless nights **** the soul outta to have a guilt trip......