Question marks constantly arrest my persona
Ironica creates them for me whatever is whenever
I’m drifting in and out of reality
My vehicle is a cloud amassed with confusion, love, hate, passion, intrigue,
Truth, freedom, life and death.
My current movement resembles that of electric blue
Its often tranquil but it makes me bleed
In the quest to be come colourless I exhort my eyes with the most profound trust
It then masters that deception
Once more my feelings has succeeded in confusing me
But what’s most amazing is I like the way it looks
It’s startling but its beautiful
I still drift in a sea of compulsion
Whether I am dead or not I have no idea