Micah
You're running wild
like an untamed animal
But when you fall
they say that you're human
You like the twilight of thought
more than the dawn of reason
so they call you an insomniac
You like the puzzle
more than you like the pieces
so they call you absent minded
You fell in love with wonder
and that's what makes you so blind

But still I wonder
will the judgment be severe?
Because pretenses
can get you carried away
like hot air in a balloon
And the present tenses
inflate the height of illusion
or delusion if you will
But the future is a pinprick of reality
that bursts every misguided balloon

Eventually only the real will rise to the top
But truth never waits on time
For in eternity's toolbox
reality is the only yardstick
So
does that make me a liar?