I've always felt everyone else was f'd-up in the head.
Maybe,it's me instead.
What is it about me,all the people around me seem to see?
Possibly all the things that are wrong in me,I just don't see.
Crazy people don't know their crazy.
Oblivious to the maniacle we all see.
It's my mind that won't let me be.Holding me back,so I can't be free.If there is a lock,there has to be a key.
Possibly all the things that are wrong with me,I just can't see.
The world can't be so blind as to not see all the good intentions I have for everyone,not just me.
When I think I'm doing good,people wanna make me feel bad.
Desperate to be happy,why am I always so sad?
So much more in this world to be had.
Possibly all the things that are wrong with me I just can't see.
Maybe I am o.k and it's them,not me.
Crazy people don't know they're crazy.
They wonder,"What's wrong with you,stop staring at me!"
So I wonder.Is it them or is it me?
Trueblueliberty
Please tell me what you think
Sorry, you cannot respond to an archived poemReviews
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Probably neither
I think everybody had this thought at least once in life. The world is our mirror. The opinions of others means a lot to us because it is the only feedback we have except for your own opinion. So who is right and who is wrong? And your poem drives home this question with a poetic elegance second to none.
Answers are not easy. And people are not perfect. Believe in yourself and take advice from good friends to heart.
(Even crazy people are people to, and usually highly intelligent people as well.)
Bill
William McGarvey
February 27, 2007
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