"What is beautiful?" Aristotle did say,
"What is a question, anyway?"
"Why ask questions?" Ask Socrates,
"We ask questions, to need to know,
Because we're all human, you know,
Brains overthinking on the go,
"So, what would you call beautiful?" I ask,
The philosophers debate this task,
To love learning, I guess,
That's one answer to their quest,
Or to love wisdom and learning,
For answers we're all yearning,
"What is beautiful?" Aristotle did say,
"What is a question, anyway?"

What does it take to
Change the world?
What does it take to
Make you answer
To all my questions
With no aggressions?

How much it will take to
Improve myself?
How much it will take to
Do the work
And change your mind
To make you see the world unlike a blind?

When things will start to
Go according to my dream?
When you all will start to
Treat each other with a cream
Keeping a smile always
Which forever stays ?

Where should I go to
Find a place unique?
Where should I go to
Start my trip
With a herd of sheep
And not having a relation cheap?

Why you act like
You act like you don't care about what I say?
Why you always get fooled by
Yourself, assuming your life is free
While seeling yourself with a price
By the Ellites, who just roll the dice.


Have you ever thought
About those question's birth?
How I always feel
About the people of earth?
I love you,
But It's not that I don't hate you.

If i could travel
Inside my mind
I truly wonder
What would i find?

Would the dreams I've had
Come back to haunt me?
The figments follow
And successfully stalk me?

Would i hear the music i
Listen to constantly
Or would i see these poems forming
And being put together miraculously?

Would i see Animals, my emotions, my
Opinions and most wretched thoughts
Personified and take horrific shapes?
Or would i remain an imagination fueled man,
And simply drive myself to be great?

What is my purpose here?
The entertain?
To save the masses?
To connect through a bleeding heart
to all my fellow man?
Am I here to make a work of art,
or save lives of unspoken souls?
Is there any chance I can do all those things?
Or is this my inevitable fall?

i lie here today wondering
how different it would have been
had i ended up with him?

would i cry less, would i be happier?
now he sends me messages of love and trust,
making me fall and believe

but if i remember before you,
he had made me cry enough too
why is it like that?

i supposed he realized that
i found someone new
and somehow he is jealous of you?

The brave mc.naught fought like he ought
Only to find out he's become what he's not
The question he's sought
Can be found deep in thought
But that memory
That moment
that rot in his lot
Is gone like mc.naught
a feather in distraught