Last Resort

A plethora of predicaments race in my mind at best,
which one can I fathom to ponder about next.
Shall I even think of acting upon what my mind stirs about,
or cry my soul asleep by this never ending drought.
What will my career be,
the words last resort come screaming at me with no one to yell halt.
The quick years will pass then they will hit me and it's my own fault.
All of my solutions come bearing a bag of infinite errors,
my late night thoughts give me shrieking terrors.
At what point in time does this maze come to a close.
On the inside I am slowly weeping but on the outside I pose.
I look around my room and it does not express myself.
Question creeps in my eyes at the prince sign of the shelf.
I am feeling confusion, don't worry not despair.
All I really want in this life is to be without a care.