I whisper to myself late into the night,
Long after the booze take control.
I attempt to be what you want,
But still refuse to believe what I see.
Inspiration, confidence, and understanding are all misdirection I have acquired,
To keep me protected from the herd.
I want to run naked in the streets.
To this epiphany I claim blasphemy.
Am I meant to be caged,
As if a monkey just pushing buttons?
I have been trained,
I accept my treat of solitude,
and continue the work with what I am accustomed to.