Crazy

They ask me,

what is it like to be crazy?

I'm sorry,

you must have mistaken me,

because I'm not crazy.

Manic?

Yes, sometimes I can be manic.

Depressed?

Yes.

Panic?

Oh yes, I've panicked.

But crazy,

not yet,

not me.

You must be crazy.

Do you feel me?

I feel freely.

So when the drums beat,

so, too, does my heart beat.

And when the babies cry,

so do my eyes cry.

So, yes,

when I walk down the street

I feel depressed if I see a friend reduced to begs,

and I feel alive when I see children playing and singing.

And yes,

sometimes I cry

when the world moves too fast.

And yes,

when the moonbeams

dance so perfectly on my chest,

I feel bold.

If that's crazy,

then I am crazy.

But, tell me, who's crazy-

The one with or without

the audacity to live?