The Checkered Demon

Too much to find,

so much so little time.

So many images persist to shade my mind.

Will I ever come around or will I just hit the ground?

Will I still be standing when it all comes down?

Why can't I seem to sort it out?

Why am I always filled with doubt?

So many people everywhere,

so self absorbed without a care.

Of their viral lives,

I'd like to bleed them all.

When all is drained, who shall hold?

When mindless bodies screw tortured souls,

will somebody be there to catch me when I fall?

Why can't I seem to sort it out.

Why am I always filled with doubt.

Why can't I figure it out.

I could always hope for change,

could always hope to rearrange.

But why not just abandon hope and tear it all apart now?