We Are All of Us Crazy

We are all of us crazy… Mad in passions like a mystic forest Where flowers swat away at bees And trees refuse to grow past crippled bushes With fields of roses painting themselves black And streams beaching misplaced whales All the while fish seek to prance along deer, All mad, in this mystic forest, Where fish can breathe aground And a rose need not fumble with a brush In a forest now harmonious in discourse And so we are all of us crazy From those of us in a sordid love affair with gravity Plummeting fatal depths on bungee cords To those of us who live life like mutes Afraid to share Yet spill their hearts on paper, privy to the world While others they laugh at tragedy, And see black where there is white And all of us are afraid of words Handled swords, that we chose to grasp by the point And are we crazy to act out of place In a forest that thrives on ill-fitting puzzles Is it sane for the fish that has lungs to live beneath the waves? Is it crazy to be yourself And not an imposter?