As time goes on my worries grow into an abyss,

One where I can never be at rest from it. 

It nags at me in the back of my mind telling me that I have to do it now

Like a great wieght in put in the center of my chest, sitting.

Everytime I try to make a move I know for sure that I'll never be able to reach what I want

All because of my carelessness,

My foolishness,

My laziness, 

Or more artfully, a self fufilling prophecy.

Sad really, that I just sit here venting out my concerns,

All knowing that somewhere out there, there maybe something that I could do that'll save me form my crisis,

But no, here I sit until the end of my days,

with my listlessness and apathy,

hopig for a Deus Ex Machina.