I wonder if I’m mad.
At times I feel so content with life
and the next moment I’m loathing it.
I want to be special, that elite, that genius, that child prodigy,
And yet when I look back ,
all I want is a simple life , a simple home, and experience that simple happiness.
Depressing thoughts come swiftly in my mind,
whispering such tempting and soothing threats,
and only with it do I feel alive.
Am I twisted, a lunatic , a mad man for thinking such a thing?
It feels as though despair has becomed my only friend.
And without it I feel incomplete.
Despair, it is the black of the night,
and the night of the day.
It lurks at every corner,
waiting to come your way.
I want to be free of such thoughts,
and yet I want to be shackled by it,
for it gives me a sense of vurnerability that makes me feel human.
Tell me anyone,
have I gone insane?