In the distance, the rope extends its reach,
The air pure, yet the ground tainted, beseech,
The workings of minds, a captivating art,
Mine is, a chaotic realm, both deep and sharp.
How do you perceive me, I inquire,
Do you grasp my essence or my dying desire?
Moments of calm, but a temper lurks,
I question if it's me or someone else, it irks.
Masks akin to leaves in a flowing stream,
Expectations etching, as if in a dream,
Blind eyes peer through the mirror's glaze,
My back bears the truth of madness, like a maze.
