Me, myself, mine.
Do these words even matter?
Me, my life, my ambitions,
To others is a jest.
...
Each day is a struggle,
The dark of the night, a place to hide.
In the end is the beginning they say,
To get there is no child’s play
...
The sky is blood dimmed.
The war cries deafening.
As the clouds break into a violent thunder,
the white dove tries hard to stay in flight.
...
The Ways Of The World
Me, myself, mine.
Do these words even matter?
Me, my life, my ambitions,
To others is a jest.
And how they step on my dreams!
Trample the fabric of love,
Selfish they leave it in tatters.
No matter what I do, would I ever please them enough? !
No more do I want to try,
To make them see the sun rise from my side.
I give up, now I’ll become one with them.
Just as they expect me to exist.
In that, maybe one day,
I would find the lost happiness…