I've blocked out not that much, and lost someone that knew me. I can't understand the chaos that plays outside my head. I'm quiet to redraw the plot I've created, and try to resolve. Why are we so happy? Happiness is the first meaning to cover up what desperately covers my insides. Every conversation opens up a new innocence to taint the will of off bound curiosity. Play the fact of that I am BOLD! Bold enough to confuse myself anymore. I've lost her. No misconception on how I've would have admitted to my fault. Her eyes throw daggers at the stained glass that has replaced my mirrors. I'm no longer sane, but when have I?