Paranoia. Part I

Be ye Friend, Be ye Foe

It may as well not matter, don’t you know?

Friend, Foe, all against me, or so I’m told.
Angst, Anxiety and Anger to flush and fold.

Who needs enemies when you can mold your own?

This Triple A comes uncalled.
This, so many crises caused.

From molehills comes this mountainous throne!

Paranoia plays it’s part,
Fiddle to the fire start.

All it asks, the faintest spark.
Just like that, things fall apart.

What butterfly beat for such needless throes?

Chaotic theory for conspiracies
Whispers, laughs, stares against me.

Pre-emptive strikes protect thee
God Forgive me.

There’s apologies caught in my throat.

Maybe Trust was a bust to begin with,
Yet what little I know tells me this:

Trust is not a grasp that crushes wrists.