Writing about life is
Like writing about love
There is no truth
No sign from above
It’s all just a game
Or so it seems
Putting things together
Unable to believe
Things happen and
People move forward
Leaving behind memories
Of peace and discord
There comes a time
A bump in the road
Where everything seems
Like it’s about to blow
And we gather our strength
And make it through
Allowing the moment
To redefine our world view
They say things happen
For a reason or so it seems
I think it’s just perception
Altering the reality
The new normal
Eccentric terminology
For a phenomenon
That feels like a dream
Feeling a sort of unrest
Something boiling inside
The mind playing tricks
Got nowhere to hide
The thought is fleeting
But it revels in pandemonium
When it all comes to a close
Will it be as grim as living?
