Those nights you try to make your piece fit with someone else's,
Only to emphasize the emptiness and nothingness the following morning.
Short-lived illusions, deceptions and self-induced make-believes.
Comforting you for a while, a momentary smile.
What's your difference from a homeless man?
Wandering with no destination, looking for a place and comes undone?
The sunset shows you silhouette of still objects,
Occasionally waving at you as winds put them in motion.
Always unsure of what is to come, what is to happen, what is to be.
Patiently waiting for something bizarre -- a shooting star landing right in front of you.
Every sound around mixes with the rhythm within -- a playlist for your introspection.
Unless it becomes true, you will remain to be you.
Unless it gives in, the unbearable plot will repeat itself.
For I have never known I was starving 'til I had a taste of you,
Never known I was exhausted 'til I took a break lying next to you.
But you remains to be a concept, an idea still far from reach.
A walk through the world of forms, a reality bound by norms.
And the moon starts to rise, varying hues paint the skies.
A day that has started with ocean's blues shall end with darkness on cue.
With a the beautiful music silence had laid upon,
You search for the star's light that may guide you while you run.
The trees have always stood guarding your holy place,
Not minding, yet waiting, for you to change your pace.
Like this poem with no beat and rhyme at the beginning,
You're hopeful that tomorrow shall provide for a new good song to sing.
For repetitions are boring.
Like four-word lines written.
Variations are direly needed.
Change your rhythm.
Less be more.
Fix it.
Live.