The Wounded Poet

I was destined to be the one.
The one of what, I still ponder
For these deep dark nights are mine no longer
I hear on these nights a hideous bell
Which rings as true as heavens hell.
Am I crazy? No one can tell
Just like the Yankees heard the rebel yell
Yeah, I’m crazy
Crazy enough to care
Crazy enough to tell the truth
Crazy enough to pull my hair
Leave me alone
Leave me be
Only in the darkness can I see
The real me
Which is everything your parents
Don’t want you to be
Sorry for being what I am,
But in actuality, no I’m not
Because I am the wounded poet,
I do not cry,
I do not weep,
I do not die,
I do not sleep.