I don't know whats wrong with me.
Sometimes i'm fine.
And other times a million little things combine together and I retreat.
My roots pull up and like a thousand pound tree I topple over.
I just end up a thousand miles south of where I started
With this overbearing overconfidence completely gone.
Instead I’m a shell.
A tiny remnant of the sequoia.
And people ask me what’s wrong
They are aware this is not the same person
But it couldn't tell you.
I'm a jumble of a thousand different things
and even i can't tell you where this mood came from.