The world is too crowded.
Respites have become necessary before we are able to carry on.
We live in a weird world.
We chase after that which doesn’t exist,
We pine after hearts that do not love.
We hang on to vines which could break in an instant,
And climb staircases that have no destination.
“But it wouldn’t be make-believe
If you believed in me“
Is the fate of our existence doomed to be bounded
By the pressure of perfection?
Even as we strive,
The hourglass of life continues Dissolving time,
Leaving only particles of memories behind.