This is why I was written as a tragedy.
This is why the only comedy in my life is mirthless.
I'm sitting here laughing at the pain
as I'm battling it for control.
This is why you'll only get out alive
So many times.
This is why our time, it ends.
This is life, and this is love.
This is pain, but this is also familiarity.
This is life, and it doesn't end until it's done with you.
These are choices, and these are the consequences.
This is the fate of all the start-crossed lovers
and others alike.
This is facing the unknown alone.
Life, and even death, is random.
Like explosions.
Of the clearest colors
vibrant like a lifting veil-
of earsplitting noises
Like the sounding of thunder from the skies above-
Like the moment of peace after a supernova sun.
Or was it before?
In our lives, we'll never know.