I don’t know what I want but I want it real,
I want to be shaken inside until I feel,
How fast the earth spins while standing still,
How deep the ocean swallows the surface,
And if we really all have some sort of purpose,
Or are we all just floating specks in space,
Unrecognizable ants, each with a sad little face?
Stumbling. Bumbling. Dazed and confused,
Passion and vibrance so often diffused,
By the fear we will never get what we want,
I should have never read the small font.