this life i've orchestrated
is left dangling in these
unwashed hands of mine
the waves of time
are swimming in sorrow
and the waves of time
are running out
it's like i'm missing the punchline
to the joke
and the punchline is
that you aren't coming back
when will we realize that we
aren't really here
for a reason?
we are only here to exist
we are like god's paper dolls:
getting dressed up to impress no one
getting depressed to appeal to no one
when you are too busy falling in love to
comprehend this,
the lines become blurred
the universe becomes intrusive,
and you are immersed in mercy
smeared in the sanity
that you can't even grasp
then suddenly
the waves of time
knock your feet
right from underneath you
and you



drown.