My face is burning and my tongue’s in knots,
I’m reading and fumbling and I can’t think thoughts.
The letters and numbers are indecipherable dots,
my breath stars to quicken and my vision fills with spots.

Saying this block of text is getting rather tiring,
and in the text the character I’ve made is dying.
None of what I’ve said is particularly inspiring,
but I’ll worry if I’ve hit after I’m done firing.

Anyways. That’s it for the rhymes,
they get rather annoying sometimes.
Basically I think that I need to sort through my mind
before I attempt to see what’s blind.
damn. I’ve already gone back on my word
what’s true what’s not, it’s all kinda blurred—
in the midst of panic I’ll always say,
“God. Why’d this hafta happen today?”

Sometimes things tend to get weird,
when things resurface and things are feared.
But that’s alright, I think to myself:
so I bid these thoughts a warm farewell.