Trapped In My Head Poem by chip reed

Ive trained myself quiet well
i changed all things me like the toss of coin
like the mirror in this head
pick up a new attitude
yea its cool
or just end up dead
see how long it holds
well it just folds into crinkles
like my broken personalities
how can all this be
when you find yourself asking
if this is really me
scrutinizing this relating to that
it's a certain attention I seem to be craving
reflections in the mind hold few things true
just being old me no change is necessary
holding on keep thinking this breathless
its deeply pathetic
even laughable when days like these come by
wondering who I am and why
questioning consistently questioning decisions
I feel mindless
Staring at a constant shaded color
Orange black red blue brown yellow green
And wondering what it all means
Asking am I really just stressed
Am I normal
Is something wrong with me
The phobias are there
… aren't they?
I do the same routines daily
I break them daily
Do I have routines or don't I
I don't know that no I do
Yea I understand no I guess im confused
To tell it true to you
I don't know if id be telling the truth
Or if im just sitting here thinking too much for no reason
And writing a poem with no meaning?