ideals sorry what?

every sole idea I conceive my mind freaks out and I retrieve the scruples give my frights a hand and blows my idea like some sand then the misery gives a call in the darkness back I fall chaos ensues with illusions on spree makes me think that I m free but I cant give my wings a flap and that for sure is a trap for the horizon where I can see I surmise that no one is free but I can see the shackles break swift a mayhem it may make then we can fly high with winds void of feet tied with stings. we can make some cosmic plans and spread some thoughts that are sane.