Perfect Insanity

Insanity over a being so entirely perfect only leads to the desolation of the mind.

I can feel the tendrils of fire slowly creeping down my spine,
The words that I’ve clung to for so long.
If I had only the sight to see, I would not be called blind,
As if disappointment and despair were my personal song.

I’ve sat here for far too long, letting my sanity depart.
I watched it leave, and made no move to delay it.
She’s taken all that was left of me, and it’s slowly falling apart,
Why is it that my attempts, so futile now, seem like a subtle lack of wit?

As if this perfect insanity were the perfect frame of mind.
As if this perfect insanity were just another phase.
Is it even possible for me to make up this lost time?
Because if it’s not, insanity will quickly stumble to craze.

How could I possibly go on, knowing this,
Knowing that the one I hold dear,
Knowing that I am not the one for her to miss.
Knowing that no matter how much I may want it, she does not want to be here.

So, once again I will let it lapse.
If only there was a way to make her see,
That I am no longer a man, but something weaker and sapped.
This perfect insanity is slowly destroying me.