The Fool Continues On.

Can't tell you how I really feel
cause feelin like an orange peel
doesn't seem real sane
might need to check my brain
'cept all you'd find
would be a waste of time
it's a jumbled mess
I must confess
I'm at a loss where to start
unburying my heart
but I can't find the space
or even a good place
just to save face
to turn back
once I begin
and I'm scared to
but I do admit it
I'm a fool

But I'm too full of unreasonable doubt
to hold the belief that this can't be worked out
it all sounds grand when written down on paper
but fails to make the grade when it's read thoroughly by the teacher
who sends me off to confess my sin to the psychiatric preacher

Can I help it if I hold a grudge
because I was judged
for just a little smudge
on a work of art
that was otherwise part
of a masterpiece?

Where's the grace?
Peace.