I look at the scars on my hands
only half remembering the battles.
I stare in the mirror looking at the laughlines
and the little grey hairs that mix in with the brown.
I feel my age
I feel my heart
I feel I should put the pen down..
I am breathing in life
breathing out death
Smiling and crying inside at the same time
all the time.
So? What defines sanity?
How often we are real and honest?
Or how often we fake it?
Cried in the shower this morning and couldn't figure out why.
Sane or insane?
Who fucking knows..