Haphazard

Wow.
I'm just a mess, aren't I?
A terribly twisted tangle of thoughts,
Thrown together without care,
Barely able to function.
So why am I still here?

I am like a child's bed,
Blankets piled everywhere,
With no regard for the way
That everything should be ordered;
Tossed together by one who feels
They shouldn't've even bothered.

I have more issues than Time magazine,
Without enough time to work them out.
And what's the point of even trying,
When nothing seems to bring about
Any sort of change, progress,
So why am I still here?

I'm screaming inside, I think.
I'm crying out for help, I think.
I don't know what to do, I think,
And I have nowhere to go
Except inside my own head.
And that's the last place I want to be.