Memos from the psych ward II

What color is the soul in the eyes of the flesh?

How much would it weigh on the scale of the righteous?

Don't look at me. I am not insane. I am just silent.

My silence is an oath,

Not to be wasteful with my words.

it is a remedy for my mediocrity.

it all started with the tears of reality,

then with laughter of my insanity.

Don't look at me. I am not crazy. I am just quite.

As psychosis came with his neat suit,

it's charming smile and it's friendly voice,

I welcomed him with open arms.

I shared his burden of delirium;

I fell in love with my delusion,

and drank from it's cup of hallucination.

I befriend my psychosis;

I told him all my secrets,

we dreamt a dream of miracles,

I kept my psychosis;

to run away from my demons.

My appetite for life shattered.

My fight for hope, all diminished.

Don't look at me. I am not out of my mind. I am out of words.

and if the angel on my shoulder asks, tell him;

I am not deranged, but wander lusting.

I am not lost, but still searching.