The night sky gleams with countless possibilities,
And I wonder—why do I question who I am?
The stars blink down at me with quiet sorrow.
People walk paths they think are theirs,
But the truth is stitched from lies—
Especially now,
In a world where a penny has no worth.
My thoughts scatter like leaves in wind
As I travel this crooked road called life.
At this point,
I might as well be called the Riddler.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 12:25 AM UTC
The night sky gleams with countless possibilities,
And I wonder—why do I question who I am?
The stars blink down at me with quiet sorrow.
People walk paths they think are theirs,
But the truth is stitched from lies—
Especially now,
In a world where a penny has no worth.
My thoughts scatter like leaves in wind
As I travel this crooked road called life.
At this point,
I might as well be called the Riddler.
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