My beating heart has lost all it's intensity.
                    
My eyes have lost the vision I thought was always destined to me.
                                       
The voices in my head have given up their anonymity.
                                  
The insanity I thought caged me has actually set me free.
                                           
I feared what they would do but now I beg and plea.
         
For them to rip out my soul because this shell isn't at all what it could be.
                                                
Until now I always wanted wings to fly and soar.
                                
Always wanted wisdom so life wouldn't be a such a chore.

Now I realize no matter what I do I can never truly indure.
    
So why does time move so slow and then to quick to ever be considered a bore?

Why do I hope I find myself between what I've been told and what I know for sure?
             
And why do I hope I loose myself during the journey beyond the intended shore?