Mad, perplexed, or sleepy.
That's when I see me.
My body isn't an image of God, it's more like static on TV.
I am crime, in my prime.
About as rich as a dime.
It is forever mine.
I face darkness in the essence of my look.
No book can make me sparkle,
No knowledge can make me beautiful.

Criminal eyes turned kind.
Why is black and white not gray?
My brow tells me more about me than my eyes.
My soft chin reveals a thin film of true vision.
Like I'm choking on reality.
My lines mingle on my forehead.
Seeing my transgressions make me know who I am, that I am not what I imagine, but what I do.
All the thieving and vandalism truly made me fall from heaven.
Sins against property.

I'm saying "my goodness" when perplexity perfectly meets madness.
I teach myself to nevermind true sadness.
Sad is what I am when I'm searching for me in another man.
A man of good deeds outshines me.
He makes my weak structures safe.
He makes me fear of the kingdom in his eye.
But I didn't see him as a child.
He tried to fix something that he never could.
He doesn't realize that a true Self could be found in darkness.
Yet when compared to recent crimes, I'm as pure as 0.995.
I'll never be as original as old rhymes.
Words need vision behind them.
But I always see the same thing.
I see floaters in my eyes.
What matters is when I recognize me in every part.
I see the good in me and it can't be me.
I can only be my crime, my knowledge of mercy, or the fear of God.
Fear in His Name is not the same as fear of His Self.