Nonsense.
No sense.

The essence of low friends,
in places
you mistake for a shade of grey that you know steams,
from the black and white of compromise,
that satisfied your wild side,
but at brighter times the child cries,
from inside your mind that amplifies;
your mistakes, because they're special.

Aren't they special?
they're unique and defeat is something to revel.

So the focus is a must,
in lies we must trust,
the instinct to sit and think
and adjust whats unjust.
Disgusting is love,
that is crushing the truth
of whats to be done, now the blame is on you.

If something is wrong,
to run,
is the fun of being crazy.
Insanity is trying this whole thing on a maybe.
Maybe it'll change,
maybe I will too.
Acceptance is scary,
but scary is you.