I’m tired of speaking in riddles.

Life is not poetic.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

Cause in reality it’s just hectic.


Waiting for something that’s never going to happen

Searching for something that I’ll never find

Dreaming of something just out of my grasp

Happiness must be a figment of the mind


Grasping through the darkness

For something you’ll never find.

Futilely hoping for release,

But knowing that you’re stumbling blind.


Until finally you find something tangible,

And hold onto it with all your might…

Only to find its insignificant

When brought into the light.


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