Grey in The Air With Wings

It's when you leave that I know my love
and it's when I'm down, that I know what's up.
But if everything was in black and white
could I really understand what's wrong, what's right?

I'm a bird in confliction.
On the ground with feet, in the air with wings
but an internal affliction
causes me to read into the smallest things.

I see, people dwelling in ignorant simplicity.
Unaware, they move through life so blissfully.
I'm not blessed with wealth or good looks
but on my shelf there are a thousand books?
I read into the smallest things.
I read so avidly.
And tragically
I find meaning
and maniacally...
I'm panicking.
How can I regain my sanity?
Yet magically

I'm on the ground with feet, in the air with wings.
I shut my beak, concealing so many things
and I analyse all the things you say
but it's never black and white.
It's always grey.