The World And Me Poem by Rayven Forrest

On eight fingers, two thumbs, and two palms
How upside down my world becomes
I'm beyond those of despair
Wondering when do I have time to care.
My world is based on uncertain things.
Almost boils down to misery
But I, this person who I've become, have a destiny
To make who I am be or not to be.
Am I that despicable one who's broke down like a mixed fraction?
So broken I'm marked with an unknown caption
Is this a fact or do I have a piece of an opinion?
This tiny world has only so many options
So let this be
It's only this world and me.