So we lied
To ourselves
All along,
The impostors
In our lives.

The
Purpose of
Everything that is
Seems fragile compared to
You.

How easy would it be
To change things
To your will
And make things alright-
Yet these easiest things
Are rarely attained.

Is it worth it
Growing tall
Only to be felled?

Would you still beleive
If I told you of a time
Where we could still talk
Without being stabbed
In the heart
With surprise
At how much love
We could give
At how much we could bend
Without breaking?

Torn between worries
Of an uncertain future
And past regrets
Chaos reigning
And a fear of the present
Taunting, tantalising
Away my mind from what's present
And so I create
Murals to
Make sense of my world.

In that pond
Which housed
A thousand fishes
Of gold
And a single
One as dark
As the depthless seas
I went to fish.
Eyes fixed
After the prize
Of one unique.
And in the try
To bag the gold
(Here, the boa)
I let go
Of a hundred
Actual gold.

//I chased after a single utopian idea, a goal, and never appreciated the other opportunities that were given. //