Imprisoned in our drunken thoughts of escaping
Is there any single hope for changing?
If the moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to
Then why does it say, there are no directions available to pursue?
I wanted to live a dream, he granted it for me
And yet, there is no time to spare
O you, lonely soul, are you melancholy, or are you in despair?
Words cut like a knife sometimes
But it pierces my heart instead
They say that the end is the beginning, and the beginning is the end
Will it even ever change?
collective thoughts around times of covid-19 when everything seems meaningless, repetitive, hopeless, and in utter metaphysical despair. I longed for a real connection with people.