lost in the tirade of being lost.
the sea brushing me further away from the shore.
rushed into a cyclone, fighting to stay grounded.
faces i once knew, no longer familiar.
heart beat racing.
body slowing down.
words don’t help.
not like i used to think they did.
sometimes the complexities of your existence
derail you from your intended destinations.
how often do we find
that life’s detours
are probably what we had in store for us
the entire time
as much as life isn’t linear
how long we exist isn’t pre-determined
at least, that’s what i’d like to think
it’s only so many times
we start over
and over, and over, and over
before restarting feels like failure
how many coins do we have
to keep putting in the arcade
til seeing “game over” repeatedly
feels like a death sentence?
just another aspect of us
every single day
the chaos of it all
the mistakes we make
eventually
it completes whatever story we write
even if we hate the ending
- DD3
No comments:
Post a Comment