MADNESS

Living in a troubled world,

Sick from people’s madness.

Living in a different world,

Where your soul it’s not important.

Where am I supposed to go?

Who am I suppose to be?

Should I give up myself to the madness?

Should I ignore my soul and give up to my body?

What if what I am its not accepted and what I should is not who I am?

Who should I be?

Where do I keep my flowers and my color explosion; my music and my overweight?

What do I do with my hurt feet, my wild hair, and my unspoiled necessity to believe?

Where do I save the ocean I’ve cried absorb now by my pillow?

Where do I keep Paris, Rome, and my everlasting desire for winter in New York?

Am I supposed to forget my desires and personality to be one?

Where do I lock my innate crave for dots and stripes?

Am I supposed to overlook my existence to please others?

Who comes first, my surroundings or myself?

How do I turn off the music playing in my soul?

How do I forget every melody, every note, and every line written?

Should I throw everything away to please madness?

Who am I?

Who am I writing for?