stars die like matches
so why do you seem to live forever

He ascended to the room
That seemed to have blocked him from reconnaissance
For it takes the form of overlapped ropes

He explored the bastille
Where affection was imprisoned
For it was located in prison cells

He always knew
That freedom was sacred to the body
That exploration was claimed by the soul

But his love for adventures, uncertainty and even endangerment,
Has kept him close to both
Her brain and her *heart

Did style happen because I copied you or you copied the magazine?
Did I like that activity in special because everyone else did?
Did I change into someone whom I'm not because being myself weren't good enough? Or because I didn't resemble the rest of you?

Is it really so wrong to try and break free from the normalities so I won't become a part of the large crowd. I want to break free and be me.

But to be free and outside of the crowd is lonely. They don't drag you back in, because in reality, where everybody is one and the same; they won't notice when you're gone. If you're gone?

Didn't a part of you stay back?
Didn't a part of you still want to be in the crowd?
Didn't you in reality never leave?

Weren't this not just a part of wish thinking? Imagination?