Too much analysis, too little data,
Turning on the angle of a smile.
I fear my brain is not released from beta,
And wonder if my thinking is worthwhile
Since I build castles in midair from dreams
And crush them just as easily with doubts;
My mind with constant overthinking teems,
Nor do I know the truth's real whereabouts.
So why, you wonder, do I wander so
With so much overanalyzed and bleak?
Because despite it all, I wish to know,
And otherwise can't find the goal I seek.
So I accept a semifalse account
In lieu of truth in any great amount.
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