Tell me, would it be of wrong to have but an intelligent conversation with I myself.
Perhaps such of world standards you speak of a deteriorating of my own health.

And excuses to say, these are probably the many thoughts of Mind
Yet surely, with such open eyes I fall Blind.

From the deepest minds I told the many of white lies. To then a point   leaving a stain.
Despite though that of a different standard of the world's idea I stated aloud would place I insane.

Such though varies an empty space  trying to be a bit of full
And in the life of such my brain, I pick what I would use rightly as my next tool.
But yet. Am I the full box to have the rightful words to pick
Rather lately the words I've said left a density in the air. Rather too thick.

But I'm not a suspect to the prey that I'm  always seen upon a confused man .
I lack such words to place the understanding in you. Yet let I not be mistaken to no such a plan.

For I speak to self for some days I be the Intellectual Conversate
The words of my very tongue few, but thoughts of brain fill up such my plate.

So yes, I may be mistaken to be of the cousin of Insanity of the brainless  one .
But give me that of choice  to speak of what's my mind and shall I then do you such no harm.

Be of this my mind. Rather the deeps of something inside
A word of intelligence but shall not it be of my fallen pride.