As I go past each, I am struck with sonder,
With each new face, I cannot help but wonder,
Have their lives been whole or torn a sunder
Live with purpose or live in blunder.

Hearts as complex, as unknown, as touched by others.
Friends and family, enemies and lovers.

Lives at rest or tense with stress.
Rooms all clean or clothes a mess.
Calm or angry, happy or sad.
Angel or demon, good or bad.

I know nothing about anyone’s soul.
All I know is that they have lived as all;
As strangers that I cannot begin to understand,
All of us stuck together and sharing this land.

I am tired,
I'm bored,
I can't be bothered,
I'm not in the mood.
I'm fine!

Maybe tomorrow,
Maybe next week,
not right now.

I'm sorry.

No, I'm not angry,
it's just been a long day.

Me? I'm just listening to music.
I'm laying on the floor,
the floor is cool,
I like to feel the music.

**** it,
you want the truth,
I hate my life,
I hate myself,
I wish everything was pitch black and dead silent,
I wish I couldn't even hear the sobs coming from my mouth.
I wish a whole lotta things,
I wish I could say this and not everything else.

What is life?
This is life.

Two perspectives acting as question and answer.
One, a life in search, ending in the question of death.
The other a life of striving, ending with death and nothing more.

I believe my sentence ends in a full stop,
but I have had questions throughout.
Others make statements but end in questioning.
Some ask nothing, and some are completely lost.

Which sentence is the correct one to live?
Should we bother questioning?
Or should we never be certain?
Maybe I'm punctuating my existence too much,
or not enough,
or maybe I'm yet to find how to punctuate the end of this life.
Life.
Life?
Life!

I believe in nothing,
the world has shattered me,
we're all alone in this empty space,
and I can no longer breathe.

It's all just pointless drifting stars,
from dust we came to be,
there's no meaning in this place,
and we can never be free.

From chaos comes a moment of order,
an efficient increase in entropy,
I have looked God in the face,
and now I can truly see.

It's not just me who writes this,
the universe is working through me,
I'll fade away without a trace,
and not a mark in history.

A whole lot of waiting,
and then a gentle sigh.
Then proof of life,
and no longer a reason to cry.

A short walk in dark and rain,
to the red door wear I lay.
I let her in,
then hours of watching, as I pray.

Pictures stop and music rests,
on a violins pleasing note.
A gentle kiss sets the night in flame,
"Stay the night, don't grab your coat."

A smile across such supple lips,
passion ensues, hand on supple breast.
In bed I hear her cry,
my name is a test.

I promise you I shall always be honest,
I will tell everything as I see it,
I will not deceive you or lie to you,
but I may not always tell the truth.

There is a difference you see,
between honesty and truth,
one is purely factual,
the other contains insight and emotion.

Honesty is the thoughts in my head,
it is truth transformed by my perceptions,
the truth can hurt,
my words will never hurt.

Body burns,
skin sweats,
fingers freeze.

Winter blows ice into my lungs,
I cannot run away.

But my breathe warms the air,
I make mist and let snow fall.
I affect this earth as much as it affects me;
I am a piece of this grand puzzle,
sure, without me you could probably still see the big picture,
but it would not be complete.