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Fantasy

de Poets of Thought

This life is strung to an abacus.
Without balance we will surely fail.
On the giant island everything is miracle or massacre.
There is no grey area for us to occupy.
And I am finished waiting for it.
All this life I am searching for a balance.

I am searching for my one purpose down here.
I may not find it.
I may just split apart into pieces never to reconnect again.
I have become this pendulum, swinging back and forth.
I can't decide what to believe. I can't see. I can't breathe.
This is the end. This is what I've waited for so long to witness.

Here they come with tanks and rifles to take me away.
I have found the stolen city walls that separate us from our dirty flaws.
Goodnight. For this I am laid to rest.
There are somethings we were not intended to know.
But I had to keep searching. It was my purpose. It was my fate

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