Crazy, crazy they thought.
The shadow walks down the paved road alone, with thoughts passing through his mind.
Unlike the others, he wrote his feelings instead of drinking them.
Crazy, crazy they thought.
For looking at the world in different ways, instead of dove meaning peace it meant strenght to him.
Instead of going to dances he stayed home and loved every ounce of it.
Crazy, crazy they thought.
He raised his head looking at them down the street, drunk, high, and stupor.
He whispered to the wind "For I am not crazy, the man that was to become a pianter is lying drunk on the painting. The woman who was to become a mother to a wonderful man, is sitting in the corner confused on what went wrong. The man to be a carpenter is sitting at the table with the rest of his friends getting high,"
Crazy, crazy they where to go with friends instead of heart.
YOU ARE READING
Brown Eyes
PoetryWords typed to show my view on life, love, youth and other thoughts that you might find crazy, too mystical and cheesy.
