Unstructured fealty,
A tip toed fantasy,
Of uncultured humanity.
This is reality,
Where sugar plum fairies,
Only exist in dreams.
So, adrift it seems.
In myths and schemes.
In the midst of things.
That we truly believe,
Will make us happy.
But even with everything,
Why does the glass remain half empty?
Is life truly a tragedy?
A perfect ballet,
Where love is promised,
But death is the only thing that cometh.
You can perfect a plie,
But bend to addictions.
You can perfect a saute,
But jump to conclusions.
Indeed, life is a perfect ballet,
Where love is promised,
But death is the only thing that cometh.
Uncertain with deities.
After all, I might be an evolved manatee.
Or I might just be an anomaly.
Perhaps this is insanity.
Trapped in bodies,
Shamed depending on anatomy.
That’s determined randomly.
Not sure of what is or isn’t reality.
Spinning in circles,
Without stability.
Spinning in circles,
Bearing the weight of gravity.
A little dance I call depression and anxiety.
Taking substances to escape reality.
Going to a tip toed fantasy.
Filled with sugar plum fairies.
Just like in my dreams.
But dreams are brief,
Just like the substances.
Going back down a spiral of grief,
And a sense of emptiness.
Wondering where to find true happiness,
To be loved.
Man maybe life is a tragedy,
A perfect ballet,
Where love is promised,
But death is the only thing that cometh.
You can perfect a plie,
But bend to addictions.
You can perfect a saute,
But jump to conclusions.
Indeed, life is a perfect ballet,
Where love is promised,
But death is the only thing that cometh.
