My mind is a mess,
stumbling around my thoughts.
There it is,
the chaos and confusion
of my creation.
By my shaky hand I say,
I will not be cornered by my own canvas,
painting the world to be
a blurry and bizarre place.
The world is not black, white, or grey,
it's muddy with our true intentions.
I can not see the corruption come over me.
A lie made by man,
the introspective essence of esteem.
Why lie to ourselves?
It does not build character,
it breaks our confidence.
Alone in my mind,
I find the freedom
to be blind to bitter notions.
