Maybe It’s Not About My Sanity

Sometimes I get confused about everything I see,

I know things aren’t the way they are supposed to be,

but I’m doing what I must, and for now it’s the best that it could be.

It’s strange what they talk about me on my face        

“He’s odd, he’s screwed up top, he’s totally deranged”

But all they see is- I'm floating like a feather through the window pane.

General things are fine, they’re bullshit at the end,

in their course of helping me, they push me,

with their words it all begins.

It’s not about the timings, it’s all about the writing,

maybe I haven’t met my love in a long, long time,

how should I convince them, it’s been my love for all the times?

Casual chit chatter, it doesn’t quite matter,

It’s for them, who want to be battered in the end,

with general topics that scatter away, they casually come back again.

But maybe they are right, I’m not fit for the fight,

I know today I’m welcomed, but tomorrow I’ll be asked to leave,

and unlike just another day, maybe I won’t train for the fight again,

cause maybe I’ll be fit to take the flight, going high up, leaving behind the pain.

Maybe it’s all about clarity, and not my sanity.