Good and Bad

My own maze of a mind is dangerous a moment of fresh air, and on the edge and suddenly I question death For who am I to think that I can defy the normality of life? In a strange path I walk, but where are those who follow? Is it only like a fool I spin this endless web of spontaneous desire? That perhaps my loneliness in other words is just a fragment of my denial, for personal safety and self-respect. For others dare not walk on flaming coals in fear they'll burn their feet Yet... does it make me a legend? One that does not get remembered but somehow nature can maintain, and by which outcasted spawn can be regressed - Not even necessarily through my own conception. Irrational? maybe... yes Like the greyish bleak clouds that cover up an illuminating moon, Inconspicuous, self righteous or lost without a clue? To whom do I owe this frailty blame? If I am, in fact, the ONLY one... then why, and will it ever change?