Tingle Tingle

Messing up
Had never felt so good before.
I had felt like
I was walking into the same wall
Over and over again.

I had never realized
How much I loved the sunrise
Until I couldn't see it.
Feel it on my skin,
Sunlight soaking in.

It's like a cancer;
How funny would that be?
My own body betraying me.
I have no answer,
'Cause I'm not done.

Charts and graphs
Of the stars at night,
Quantitative meaning
To dazzling sight.
What are we doing?

Doing things right.
I'll never get to know
What that means
To anyone at all
Except me.

How much does it
Take to understand
That it's not just about
What you do for yourself?
Too much, too much.

I can't ever count
The times I sat
Alone with myself.
Asking "why didn't I win?"
Why didn't I win?

Who really cares?
Sarcastic answers in the
First person view
Schizophrenic reasons
Bubble from within me.

Does that even matter?
I'm starting to see
That it's still something more,
Something eluding me,
That draws people together.

If it's not what
Is on the outside,
And not what's on the inside
That counts either,
Then where does it hide?

That strange tingling sensation,
Somewhere above and below
Everything in human realization,
How could I know?
And where did it go?
Where does it sleep when
The world is dark?