Broken

They say I’m not broken, but I’m not so sure.
I’m certainly not fit for much
So what does that make me?
I’m fit for going crazy in a room, alone.
I’m fit for madness, poverty, solitude
For the company of lost souls
Because we always seem to find each other.
i live, not to raise humans
or race cars or to fly to the moon
But to experience the highs and lows
Of my extremely emotional and unstable psyche
And translate them into art, somehow,
To turn my peaks and depths into
Something resembling human experience exhibits
that I can exchange for yours
And we can communicate.
Anything other than this seems like a waste of time.
Does that sound like a whole, sane person
Of the 21st century?
Life these days seems to be all plastic, hate, and money
And I can’t find a place in it.
Is that broken or disconnected? Is there a difference?
I feel sane, but have been wrong before.