They love the shadows, calling it light, Chasing quick sparks that die in the night. Like Icarus soared, seeking the bliss, Blinded by heaven, yet falling to abyss. People more like conmen who seek fleeting pleasure, End up in ruins, mistaking pain for treasure. The same ones call me a madman, out of spite, For chasing my peace in what feels right. I say everything's fine,is it ?