I dream & dream of reality in its quickness,
This quandary I do not have to ask.
Freedom to have some sense,
To understand these simple beings.
For they do not have these feelings,
Of utter depthness and sanctimony.
They who act as living puppets,
Have no heart and no loving.
To seek that inner peace,
They live in a box, a closed world.
Nothing to feel free about,
No definition to this defined structure.
To create and then to destroy,
Look into these eyes, eyes of mourning.
They can’t forgive their own actions,
Not force each other to love in their own sympathy.