the one good thing about being crazy.
You drank and down those liquor,
you watched those neons lights flashed by.
A whole street of strangers you smiled to,
and watched them through your wet fake lashes.
You walked on, clueless on what's ahead and
what you've left behind.
You couldn't care less,
you just need a moment of insanity
in order to be alive.
Why should you be ashamed?
Hasn't it been everyone's constant pursue to be different?
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