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?
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