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If
if I could just
write
how I feel
would you still be here?
living in a way to
avoiding the word failure
in your epitaph,
for a foreseeable reward in heaven,
is like walking on eggshells
without ever breaking out of your own shell.
The fear of failure is worse than actual failure. Failure teaches you to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and have another shot.

The context seems rather relevant now with what has happened this year.
Here's to hoping you never give up and find the strength to start again.
you were just having fun,
within a day your feelings were undone,
happiness is a warm gun.
How does it feel 'killing' your feelings every night?
Is it almost the same as avoiding get in too deep all the time?
Do the residual feelings influence you anymore?
Why do you even cry,
When your first instinct
is to simply lie.
Are you a proficient liar or a crybaby?
in the night
all by yourself,
with some tunes
in the background
to hit you with the memories,
they all seem very real
you'd thought they
would simply disappear,
but a lot of time
has gone by since
and now here you are
where even the walls have ears,
having heard many stories
over the years
so what's it going to be tonight?
'hold my hand',
says the hour hand to the minute hand
of the wall clock,
tick tock!
as time seems to pause
and you deep dive
into the music,
lyrics and instruments
with their own
ups and downs,
yet in perfect coherence
the harmony taking you places,
feels like a nightcap
for some midnight nostalgia
coming back,
you snap out of it
as the sound waves
fade way
in distance
'well, that was a nice little adventure...
onto the next one!',
your mind goes.
an ode to a little midnight nostalgia induced by great music.
If the spirit isn't broke,
Yet all your dreams are up in smoke,
Whose ego will you now stroke?
Was it always a joke?
The famous saying goes - If it ain't broke don't fix it. Sometimes there are imperfect pieces to a perfect puzzle. The human spirit, though imperfect, has the power to change almost everything unless ego gets in the way.  

Your spirit vs your ego - Who will win?
Coming out
Into the world,
After a sure start
With nowhere to go now
Almost choking
At being an adult
Living life,
As it was laid out
By nature and nurture
Unfazed by my own religion
Or the world outside,
Never talked
To the guy upstairs
But living used to be sacred,
Is now all but sacrilege
If it were always
My plan versus his
I never stood a chance
But there's a sense
Of burdened freedom
Along with a sense
Of joyful realism
To be happy
any chance you get,
A fine ventriloquist
He's got his ways
Makes you admire
The work he does,
While pondering
The meaning of life,
The fine line
Between right and wrong,
Trying to get some
sense of control
Thinking of pulling
One up on my destiny
Of saving my soul
Not selling out
To this facade
Of what we call progress
But maybe I should
Just stay a while
And enjoy this blissful anaesthesia,
Monitored by the man himself.
Does God always have a plan, good or bad? Or can we be in the driving seat for a change?

Maybe it is a mixture of both - my faith in his ways and my faith in myself, that will be the answer to the questions I've been pondering.
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