My insides are all twisted up
My mind and my stomach alike, mixed up
Distorted to shapes unnaturally
I feel the pain but actually
I feel clouded, or maybe just crowded
A cloud of words crowds my brain
Un-deciphered and undoubted
The wreckage of a derailed train
Thoughts disconnected and unconcerned
As I wrestle with the truth I've learned
Is the truth relative or is it just me?
Do I relate at all to the things I see?
I think about whether or not I exist
But this binding flesh keeps me from knowing
The thoughts in my mind seem to insist
That I exist based on them alone
My feet on the ground I can hear the rumble
Of the train approaching I start to stumble
Lying on the tracks I begin to see
That I must have been for my end to be.