They say I can't function,
and even as much as disillusioned
with my tablet rations,
to make me their conditional.

There's a story wrapped in madness,
and its not Hansel & Gretel,
but a floating of a bottle blessed
Never opened by any person.

There's a truth to art I see of face,
Never here and I've never been,
A spoken of a forbidden place,
A secret never felt or never seen.

My definition of the beautiful,
are souls proved so wonderful,
not here, no back alleys in my mind
There's & my of vulnerabilities
It is always so very kind
and for once, I'm starting to be free,
a motorbike zig zagging the trees.