(no subject)
Who are these kids that love so freely?
And these people, leaving their mark everywhere, they call it art?
What of world crisis? People live like they know not.
And what is living? Put a price on a life and call it yours?
There is this perpetual cycle I feel I am bound to serve.
I want something more than this, but what more is there?
We speak of want and need, but freedom is not as free.
Bound to these chains like our fathers before us-
And they say I think too much.
I have yet to love fully, keeping none of it for myself,
Greed is feeding from us, taking what we thought was ours.
Is my heart too afraid to chance it's wings, to flutter?
Fear of being left behind, putting my faith into nothing would be
Just as fair, would it not? What will bring me to a halt, to prove itself
Strong, something to believe in? I'll apologize again, I don't want to
Need at all. I ask for too much, when I am only temporary.
This must be a waiting game, another riddle
Life is this, and we make the best of it,
Putting lines through what we mean
To vary, ready for departure.