Crazy

Can I tell you something?
Something strange.
When I walk on the street,
I feel like people have been planted there.
On purpose. Like props in a play.
I know that’s my Crazy talking.
I know it’s the crazy
‘cos I know how Crazy works.
So I let my own thoughts scare me
for a second.

Then I simply avert my thoughts.

I know just ‘cos I have a random thought
it shouldn’t define my entire personality.
I know the greatest of us
have a little bit of Crazy within us.
But there lies the problem
in calling it Crazy itself.
It should be called otherwise.
Unique? Special?
Individual?

People have mucked up and misused words so much
that sometimes when the appropriate word is missing,
wrong wordplay end up causing collateral damage.
“The insecurity we get of our own thoughts”

No. Don’t let a vocabulary label you.
Be confidant about who you are.
In the meantime
tell the family history of Crazy genetics
the abusive piano teacher
the inappropriate father figure
and the sniffy social standards,
to sod off.

©Aanjeli