It is a curse to believe you need the certainty,
To live life expecting a ting of morality.
It is an insatiable need to maintain,
A scream in vain.
It is obnoxious to believe you can know someone,
It is an impossible feat for anyone,
You cannot dwell deep and fix their scars,
No one reveals all, not when it's their secrets hidden behind their own prison bars.
It is a myth, a legend,
That love solves all,
It is a children's fantasy to believe in the fairy tale end,
And yet, I try, even faced with the growing wall.
There were storms and plague,
Emotions which were vague,
The pain seemed unending,
And yet there was no craving for a new beginning.
Things have ended before,
I figured it out so it fled my core,
Some were easy, some hard, some I let go and some I fought,
But you, I still try, to figure out.
So that is the story, that is the certainty,
A joke upon a joke on my soul that needs the clarity,
To realize I can never be certain,
Hence unable to stop trying, a mess, a failure, an outcast in pain.