Maybe It Is Nonsense

My thoughts seek companionship in substance Substance of the five senses, yes But mostly of conscience Isn’t it torture to go on and on, days across Pasting social norms over truth Constantly barely pulling order out of chaos Can we be serious and real Or is it just me, or circumstance To want to not try to feel Fake I witness so many shallow laughs Thinking, save your breath, what’s so funny Your miraculous brain isn’t such a dummy I struggle to gasp When the situation calls for it but really I’m stronger and would need more of a rasp Don’t want to seem numbed and awkward But lately thinking it’s okay, even Zen To not have to be another clucking hen, trying for the “don’t ruffle my feathers” award