Who's to say?

What's to say, what's to come
Who's to say, who I become
The rhyming rhymes
Tired lines
Toiled blood,
under rated son.

No two paths to choose from,
No few things to do now
Amazing number of alternatives
No real choice, blinded, stowed

Multiple facade, multiple games
More than one, multiple blames
Duplicating worth, suffocating pain,
Implicating chip on my shoulder's fame