Curiosity, they say, kills the cat.
I ask, though, does the cat ever think about that?

No, says the cat, I shan't dwell on consequence.
This makes me believe, then, that the cat is a creature of great intelligence.

After all, what being of intellect would never possess the urge to know?
Instead of lacking knowledge, shaking one's head to and fro,

Wouldn't a smart thing like a cat search for answers?
Indeed, the way to halt one's ignorance is to dig endlessly for what one is missing.

Like a puzzle being solved,
We must leave some things unresolved.

Leave a few pieces blank in order to fill others.
So now I conclude that it is not curiosity which kills the cat, but the necessary occasional lack of knowledge that leaves the cat thirsting for more.

We say: I need it.
Do we not mean: I want it?
We find some things necessary,
Others desirable.

Humans, I find, lack the disposition to distinguish between the two.
We lack the desperation to say that we truly need something.

Only desperate humans truly need things.
You see, humans have created so many shortcuts in nature that it is entirely unnecessary to depend on any one material.

However, we have large, far-seeing eyes that fixate on particular subjects.
Our minds fixate on this subject at the same interval, and we are left with desire that will never be relinquished,
For if it is satiated, we come back for more.

Thus, we require nothing, and desire everything.

You're too emotional.
I'm emotionless.
Together, we're human.

Our Demons are not under our beds,
They are in our eyes, wherever we look,
On our lips, whenever we speak,
In our minds, whenever we think,
In our memories, whenever we remember,
In our hearts, whenever we love,
In our tears, whenever we cry,
Our Demons do not exist without us,
They exist within us.

Hope, a crude thing:
People who possess it, end up losing it due to pursuance of an objective centralized on solely having Hope.

Hope: A cruel thing,
That tears things away from those who wish for it.

Hope: A villainous thing,
That can be existent and absolutely unrealistic.

Hope: A false thing,
That we imagine to console ourselves that there is a reason to go on.

Hope: A lie,
We tell to those we love to get the point across that we will always be with them.

Hope: An ugly lie disguised as a beautiful truth.

Was the saying not with beautiful lies and ugly truths?
It seems that Hope is a shapeshifter,
As well as a master of deceit.

It seems that humans have an obsession with light,
That where there is light, we lack in fright.
It seems that there is fear and uncertainty in the dark,
That nothing is certain, yet everything imagined.
What if the dark were a blessing,
So that there would be no guessing as to what lurks in the shadows?

Some lives, they say, are linked across time.
If I could find a rhyme,
I'd point out to you that some things are meant to be,
Unlike friends and ends,
Love and adventure don't rhyme.
But you see, they're all meant to be: friends, ends, love, adventure.

Things are simply this way,
Truly, we have no say.
As if someone has written our story,
Thought of our glory.
Written it down in some grand design,
As if what they write has the ability to intertwine our lives.

It's like everything we do is searching for scattered lines of text in our corner of this person's mind.
Many a wise man said we are all connected.
If the grand design were a book, we would be.

Like a thorny rose,
You want it.
But if you're not careful,
You're hurt.
When you can finally admit to wanting this rose,
Things seem to mend.

A funny thing, Love.
It changes, like a chameleon.
It changes in strength, like a storm.
Only one thing is certain:
You are left different than before you set your sights on this rose.

We are all afraid of falling, failing.
When we fall, we hope for a hand to pull us out of this endless abyss that we hurtle through.
When we are pulled out, it is a show of trust, belief, an support.
The people who give us this are unique, one of a kind, irreplaceable.

We all have imperfections.
When someone sees our flaws, and loves us more for them, we are lucky.

Friends. Ah, friends.
We would never dare to lose them, since they have always been with us, day-in, day-out.