I do not have as much time on this earth
as I would like, I am twenty years old
and each year seems like it lasted no more
than mere seconds. In a month I will be twenty-one,
In a lifetime I'll be dead.
Whatever will I do in-between now and then?
"Just remember to fall in love,
There's nothing else,
There's nothing else".
Sometimes I'm afraid
I've forgotten how,
The only thing I feel
is this fake empathy
attaching itself to everything around me,
Stinging me, wondrously. I'm not sure
whether I believe if this is truly reality
or just misplaced sense-attachments?
I'm questioning my actuality again,
The sense which connects realities;
The accuracy of interpretations to
these many given representations.
"Will I ever love again?" he asked
of himself, foolishly, as if begging
for that insanity. I am a lost cause;
The first one said I wasn't broken enough,
Well now that I'm beyond repair I've gotta ask,
What is love(? (hahaha!)