Choice.

The choices overwhelm me;

The excuses abound.

My limbs are like dead-weights,

I lack the energy to stand.

All my nights are spent on edge,

Hearing screams behind closed eyes.

I've lost my sense of self;

Though even that's been proven false.

-

I would ask for a savior,

If I thought there was a problem.

They just don't realize what they do,

It's not as if I make it easy.

No, I don't excuse anything,

I owe them not a thing.

-

Still, persist these doubts,

These voices inside of me.