Descisions, knocking on the back of my skull,

Speak or be silent,

Slip into oblivion or fight back,

Be blissfully ignorant or painfully aware,

Fight for the conscious effort or slip into superfluous fairytail,

They're scraping and trying to punch through the wall of fog that entraps my mind,

And in a couple more months they'll be snatching me into their whirlpool and I'm afraid I'll go mad,

Or I'll lose grip and fall so far they won't be able to dig me out...