i guess there's a commemoration
behind the glass walls
and a figment of imagination
will soon deform into distraught recognition

i'm so tired of craving what will only **** me eventually
but i suppose if i am to live,
it'd be the best bet to fulfill whatever i desire
in which will only harm myself

it's sorta weird to know how we were made
and crafted at the hands of the Universe
like the concept of a God was just a pitiful grain of sand.

i wish i could just let live and be
but the waves are stronger now
and i try not to let the wind sway me
because i am aware of my surroundings
as much as i can be
and i know that the second i put forth the effort
to made a dramatic change
the "Big Snooze", as Jen Sincero calls it,
will do anything in her glory to prove to me i am incapable
i am not incapable