I am an oxymoron in a strange silly sort of way,
I walk my life in nighttime visits to the only place a metaphor such as myself could manage calling home.
I am afloat and adrift in a daze dreaming during the day,
I hold a hand out to the reflection I cannot stand hoping my heart isn't set in stone.
I am a lucid nightmare.
Why aren't I content to be reborn behaving behind my blushing stare?
I am a contradiction to my original jurisdiction,
A fool with a clustered head filled with fabric, string, and spool.
It's stupid being stuck feeling sorry for not forgiving myself.
It's stupid not understanding my own limitations of happy or health.
I am tired and wish to call it a night,
But the daylight shines still in spite.
So for now I remain as I am and for now I guess that's alright.
-end-