Final Destination

Imagine
Your life as a rundown amusement park
And every ride is just as twisted as the braids in your hair
You climb in and buckle up and go for another pointless self demeaning ride
Kinda like when you slept with that guy last Thursday
You try to find comfort in your seat realizing your deepest insecurities are strapped on to your chest
Restraining you
Suffocating your lungs
But you manage to grab hold of the handle bars as if your snatching up the dice on your 6th game at the casino when you've already lost a whopping 6 times
You slowly make your way up this ladder completely built outta your own self hatered for your body that was meant to be beautifully crafted
Thousands of critics nit picking every agonizing inch you take to get to the top of this atrocious ride
Lingering above an abyss
Waiting to fall into the uncertainty down below
You close your eyes because you're too afraid to what lies below
Questions pop into your wandering mind
Why did I do this to my self again?
Why do I continue to buckle up and ride knowing nothing good ever comes from it?
Is it because you love the thrill of not being in control of your own life the way and addict loves the high.
Or is it because you, your self do not love the very being that created this ride.