The Checkered Demon

Too much to find, so much so little time. So many images persist to shade my mind. Will I ever come around or will I just hit the ground? Will I still be standing when it all comes down? Why can't I seem to sort it out? Why am I always filled with doubt? So many people everywhere, so self absorbed without a care. Of their viral lives, I'd like to bleed them all. When all is drained, who shall hold? When mindless bodies screw tortured souls, will somebody be there to catch me when I fall? Why can't I seem to sort it out. Why am I always filled with doubt. How could I always be so blind? Why can't I figure it out. I could always hope for change, could always hope to rearrange. But why not just abandon hope and tear it all apart now?