In Check

In check
and supressed,
feeling down
and depressed,
it's my fault,
this giant mess
brought by me,
whom I detest.

All happening,
all so quickly,
this situation
making me sickly,
getting even
more prickly
as time passes
and speech becomes thickly.

Confusion runs
rampant still
with no one to
receive the bill
I must pass
before the spill
further runs
the full mill.

One effort
last ditched,
one trailer
last hitched,
with no more
ideas pitched
there's no chance
for a last switch.