i wonder what we could get,
with no effort, no regrets,
would it be whimsical delight,  perhaps something to fright?
'why is everything so gray?'
a query that leads to dismay..
how they urge me to be keen,
without knowing how I've been...
'he, who is happy, has not seen the truth...
of life and its ruth...'
dreams are but fleeting, i am drifting...
further into the chaos named life...
prithee, tell, will no endeavor suffice?
in this grueling, unjust fight?