In a whirlwind of numbness
there is nothing but madness
this pen is my release,
the ink it is in my blood
everything I see and everything I do
haunts my life, my everyday
it tells me I am crazy.
Crazy am I,
A young girl who acts on impulse. Who listens to her feelings as though they are a parent or best friend.
Crazy am I,
An old woman, who spent her entire life alone searching for 'the one' but finding no one.
Crazy am I,
A young man who fights for justice only to find that there are no greater oxymorons than what he is being fed, yet he follows along anyways.
Crazy am I,
A lesbian, who knows what she feels, yet is repressed by her family's ignorance. She hides herself to protect an image.
Crazy am I,
The addict, who only needs someone to understand. But instead of compassion receives lectures which increase the need for release.
Crazy am I,
the poet, who writes these very words
she spends her days deep in thought,
but seems to have no cares
Crazy are we,
these people, who have felt all too much
all here for different reasons, none matter.
the fact remains that we are,
all indeed crazy.
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