Despite the things I say, both to myself and others around me, I could never truly hate the accidental arrangement of events that I call my life. Though I’d never admit this willingly, I tend to feel delight at the strangest moments, especially during the break of dawn when all is still and silent. It’s those times that I realize that in a way, all the things that happen in my life has a purpose, whether or not that means that I learn from my mistakes or develop as a person (whatever that even means). I cannot claim to be an optimist, but I seem to be inconsistent with the ideals that characterize a true pessimist as well. Somehow, randomness has become a kind of salvation from my current state of rather pointlessness. All the while, Chaos has opened up its arms in warm welcome, and I’ve been very willing to embrace it. It’s truly funny… in sad way. Yeah, I’m pretty sure all these emotions I associate with past events are a product of the merely biological aspects of my existence, chemicals and what have you. But sometimes I revel in the luxury of fooling myself. In reality, I am everything but the thing I strive to be; a rock.

I’ve never felt inclined to disappear,

But I can’t deal with the growing fear,

That maybe I’m better off alone.

And as my heart turns to stone,

I struggle to keep on going blindly.

Just speak the truth, oh so kindly.

I already know the answers to come.

Yet as I hear your words, I go numb.

You couldn’t fathom the pain in my heart,

For deception is my one mastered art.

For now, I will never achieve a state of bliss,

But I hope to find it later as I reminisce,

About the changes I could have made,

And even the emotions that I displayed.

But despite all my misery and growing sorrow,

I can only wake up and deal with it tomorrow.

Sitting in silent solitude brings naught,

For the free spirit, my life, has been caught.

And though I try to revel in the tranquility,

I can no longer maintain any sort of sensibility.

As I see the obvious correlation and reason,

I’m still not sure this will be the last season.

My comrades will soon cease to exist.

I’m all but horrified by this shocking twist.

Despite assuring myself that I am apathetic,

I’ve finally resorted to attempts to be poetic.

And as I watch the remains of my world burn,

I listen to a whispered tale, only to learn,

That the ripe fruits of irony are bittersweet.

Oh, what a chance it was for us to meet!

I experience a mysterious delight,

In taking on this turbulent fight.

It’s a struggle for a kind of life,

One that transcends all strife.

But at times I stop and wonder,

Could this just be another blunder?

Doubting this isn’t why I try,

That would just be a tad too dry.

Instead, I push on in belief of chance,

But for now I cannot advance.

I think I’ll give it a try,

Breaking from the lines.

Stop the constraints,

Of rhyming ends and pieces.

To feel this wholly free,

Is something new, indeed.

In that light, I will start:

I keep my calm amidst confusion,

But I remain lost for words,

For behind my composure,

Lie chaos and disorientation.

I assure myself that I am fine,

But I’m well versed in these lies.

If I held a mirror in front of my eyes,

My complexion would reveal all,

Everything that I try to hide.

Knowing this will not help me though,

For I lack anyway of resolving it.

Might I be missing something?

Maybe it’s been there all along.

It’s time to wake up from this dreamy state,

Cut all the crap about destiny and even fate.

Looking closely now, I can see the obvious,

All the things I missed as I was oblivious.

There’s just no place for me in your heart,

No refuge, just something keeping us apart.

I can’t tell if there’s any chance, it’s hopeless.

This searing pain is nothing short of endless.

Maybe the time has come to just let things be.

Here’s to you, my love, the one you’ll never see.