I find myself
ever concerned
with everything
stopping constantly
thinking...
waiting...
perfection must be reached,
yet there is no such thing...
only I
will see every flaw.
the words don't fall
into place quite as easy
and the thoughts,
though endless...
don't make much sense.
I'm going mad, you see...
blissfully,
I might add.
I laugh at simplicity,
envy it really...
but never able to obtain...
the truth is,
what scares me really,
is the possibility
that I'm totally sane