The Conscientious

The world burns up around me.   
An actual apocalyptic fire                         
                                  consumes the entire earthly domain.   
And I feel sad about it.   
And I feel guilty.   
And I feel pain.   
And I spend my days                       
                                 feigning innocence,                                
                                                and a bit of disdain,         
    for this is my way of coping                               
                                              with a life of guilt.   
And it is my one and only claim                                  
                                                 through it all,                             
                                          that I am innocent of it all,                             
                                          that I am lost,                             
                                          that I am insane,                                       
                                                           totally insane.   
And during the nights,                  
                            I conjure images in my brain,                                               
                                                                          to kill the pain,                                               
                                                                          to kill the pain       
     of this maddening innocence                                   

                                                   that I claim.