Returns

Returns

I recognise that it’s not a great feeling
That need to self-destruct for no good reason
But it’s all I can think of to do

What else can be done
When the head’s
Letting you go
And leading you into
The shadows once again

And I must admit
I rather like it
Feeling psychotic
And I can’t help smiling
With all probability
I’m losing my mind
To the illusions of fantasy
Shaping clouds in the sky

As the clouds project a
Dismal future
Maybe this is just the final overture
Before the end comes to pass.