Bliss

I had this really cool idea float into my head the other week. I really did. I was excited about the concept too; something meaningful along the lines of society and the molds we fill to fit in, or play along. What was one sentence and an idea, turned into weeks of trying to find the perfect words. Then, well, this.

What can I say?
When I try to make things perfect I procrastinate or think too much, and then my ideas go down a different route. I like the general idea of this poem, but I don’t like how it flows.
What do you think?

Bliss
I had to look inside myself to find
Where I lost my mind
Lest I forget
The boundaries that I overstepped

And I come to see I’m tied
To the lies of righteous kind
From the lips of wickedness
But then again they say that ignorance is bliss

I had to pull myself apart
To bring me back to start
I break myself to bend
Before I can think to mend

But these battle scars
Are just too damn far
Etched into my soul
And I’m left out in the cold
Again

I had to look inside myself to see
What it meant to me
The mirror’s cracked
I’m tied to these tracks

The shades are drawn
But I don’t have to pretend I’m strong
Twist all my fears into words
To make these failures less absurd
In truth

Your words cut like broken glass
You promised help but I’m falling fast
My eyes alive with hope
Feeding from the hand that feeds to cope

And I come to see I’m tied
To the masters of design
Whispering truths through tales amiss
But then again they say that ignorance is bliss.