It's funny, I still see the same things
I still know red is not blue
The morning bluebirds still sing
And yet, somehow, it's twisted
While still being old, not new
As if my brain itself has misted
I can still chat and converse
With a throat that's dry
As I pretend the reverse
Its a flaw so clear, yet so weird
That the world through my eyes
Could be so easily smeared

***