Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain

I engage in purpose,
I do what I'm willing,
Happiness is meaning,
Justifies suffering.

Blindsided by the pints,
Drinking lightens my way.
I fight against chaos,
Though overwhelmed today,

Nothing feels as good as when the pain stops hurting.

Kites adorn the atmosphere,
They fly high though tethered here,
Distance makes them disappear,
Do they feel the pain of fear?

If kites fear to fly too high,
Why do they identify,
As a toy, do they comply,
With peer pressure we supply?

If kites don't find what they seek,
If they learned, like me, to freak,
At altitude, would they speak,
In truths masked by tongue in cheek?