Insanity

I’d say it’s crazy but I wouldn’t know, wouldn’t go, wouldn’t blow with the wind. That would be too free, too lonely at sea, as my sail caught on my sin. There’s a strangeness there, in the moving water-air, and it pulls and it tears at my soul—no my heart, as it aches to be apart, yet it still is always yearning to be whole. I think if it broke—yes, my mind, not my soul—then to find it in the waste I’d need to lose. And though losing is so wrong, and it’s wrong to not belong, I think I’d like to lose if I so choose. Don’t hate me—don’t break me—though you can just stare if you’d like. I won’t react, won’t compare, wouldn’t ever even dare, though if you look then be ready for a fight. I’d not win, I’d not lose, I’d not ever even choose; choosing has forever been my chains. I am bound and I am found, in a perfect little cube, that the world has always labeled as insane.