[Alex]

They say we should be true;
to what is really ours.
But why, may I ask, are we lost in cowers.

When we cry, we need satisfaction;
As if we crave something more than a fraction.

It's a fraction, I dare say, of what we wish to become;
for, truly, in our minds we damage much more than the sun.

Is insanity a drug, for I perceive it as such;
or could it be a window to a world we know, not so much.

Sometimes I try to remember, what I'm on the border of forgetting;
And other times I wonder,
why its here;
and why its beating.