Circles

I race myself to crimson fatigue
Without even starting the race
Yet all I keep doing, is what I do
And I cannot stop, no will to stop

My head throbs, it aches, it surely dies
Its all running in circles
There was never a return from my hell
Surely, no point of stopping the madness

Hypothetically, it makes no sense
But I really did stop caring
Yet the lethargic question asks away
What shall I do but know the answer?
Shall I run, hide, exhaust, and slay itself
Should I return, go back, and then red away
When all I want is blackened dismay
When everything stops yet twirls and caves

But without stopping, it stops
But without going, it flees
Pushing aside what I wanted
Burying the bright underneath the blackened gray

There is no stopping
There was no choice
But to twirl around and waste away