deepundergroundpoetry.com

I'm Not Fucking Crazy

Where the hell is the fucking point
In wandering through this damning land?
When every act, word, movement and thought
Is frail and fearful and hopelessly bland.

Why must I, among all my peers,
Be the one who's considered unstable?
While the rest of you shed copious tears
For mentalities you repeatedly mislabel.

How is it that you think me wrong
In my vision of the world that we share?
My misery you would gladly prolong
For that art you consider most fair.

What is it you so righteously stickle
In my right to roam unchained?
I care not of your whims, your fancies, so fickle,
To hate a mind that's unordered, unatamed.

Who the fuck are you comparing me to
When you title me unlike the rest?
Perhaps the one who's deluded is you,
In your faltering view as one of the best.

When will your mindless thoughts wrap around
The objective truth that seeps through and through?
That insanity in our world does abound
And the only one really mad here is you.
Written by Marchioness
Published
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