How am I to continue this?

With patience I don't have?
With time that make me sad?
Dead with every passing moment
Of that clock, I become worse
Each second, more perverse.
To outlast the smile on my face
I count each second as they drip
Count each lie from my lip
Why do I hide it from them still?
Afraid they'll turn me out their door?
Won't speak to me anymore?
Why do I pour my problems into words?
Snap a pencil in my fist,

Why do I continue this?

Should the solitude be something I can't bear?
Haven't I always been alone?
By myself with all of them home?
Wasn't it me who agreed for a longer life?
Who promised to survive?
Who swore to stay alive
Couldn't it be that they really do care?
When I wonder what they think about,
Should I assume that it's not doubt?
Maybe that isn't contempt within their eyes!
And if it is, what of it?
Am I to be their puppet?
These thoughts do help to find some sleep
Sweet dreams, I've surely missed

Tomorrow I'll continue this.