This poem really sucks, but it wouldn't get out of my head.
I suppose in the end we all start out the same,
A little bit lost on the rules of this game.
What constitutes love? How do we know what's 'right'?
How do we deal with lonely Friday nights?
How do we decide if all our decisions
Are based on true facts and not just opinions?
We puzzle and question, searching for answers,
To be plagued by wonder is man's eternal cancer.
It's a puzzle I hope I never figure out,
And my curiosity is fueled by doubt.
Through our searches, we eventually find
Some one else who's looking for their mind.
Together, I suppose things get less complex,
Because on your own, life tends to perplex.
And, yes, I know there's no greater cliche,
But I wouldn't have my life any other way.
EDIT: ...D: Why do I like this more now that I've reread it. It's still stupid.
A little bit lost on the rules of this game.
What constitutes love? How do we know what's 'right'?
How do we deal with lonely Friday nights?
How do we decide if all our decisions
Are based on true facts and not just opinions?
We puzzle and question, searching for answers,
To be plagued by wonder is man's eternal cancer.
It's a puzzle I hope I never figure out,
And my curiosity is fueled by doubt.
Through our searches, we eventually find
Some one else who's looking for their mind.
Together, I suppose things get less complex,
Because on your own, life tends to perplex.
And, yes, I know there's no greater cliche,
But I wouldn't have my life any other way.
EDIT: ...D: Why do I like this more now that I've reread it. It's still stupid.