Failure is an excuse for not trying
         (It's like a white, bleeding void)
Not trying is an excuse for fear
         (Empty, cold and unforgiving)
Fear is an excuse for not living
         (All mistakes are lain bare, the stark stain of beetroot on a white shirt)
Not living is an excuse for dying.
         (My pupils narrow from the pain of the light and sin)
They're everywhere, invading my concentration, tugging at the fibres of my tolerance.
         (I. Can't. Do. This. Anymore.)
Go away, I'm trying to think
         (My fingers grasp at clammy hands)
Go away, I'm trying to remember.
         (I am catching hands in my pockets)
No.
         (They insist)
Repel my attempts to save myself from the foreboding doom
         (I try to cram them in my heart-shaped box)
There are too many, and slowly they start to darken the white
         (Jumping at my own mind)
Let me think, let me remember!
         (There is time later)
They taunt me so.
         (Go away!)
And when morning arises, I will resurrect myself and lumber blindly into my impending demise.
         (It's nothing like that dark, empty void I thought it would be)