Is this real life?
Is this just a fantasy?

Is life collapsing around us?
Why can't we sometimes face the truth?

Can we control the variables in our life?
the love, the fiction, the drama, the secrets?

What will make us?
What will break us?
What will take us?

Is life really easy come, easy go?

I've cry enough tears to fill the ocean.
I've built walls that can be seen from space.
I've clouded my thoughts where no sun can shine.

What makes us human?
What controls us?

Our blood and flesh?
Our heart and mind?

What is being sound?
What is self control?

The things we think of?
The things we do?

This part of me that I hold dear.
Is my self existence from year to year.