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Just some last few ramblings before I turn in for the night.
For all we know it's a day full of pain and anguish;
that we might derive from the most
foolish of things, and
all in all it might seem real,
in fact too real.
From this we set the days behind and go on to the next;
for we know everyday's the same
and won't be changed,
unless it's made to be so.
From times of tears we've lived to fear
the memory of our lives;
and so it is, just like that.
And yes it's true, painfully true.
'Tis a day where people gain
and be happy for their might
of a joyous occasion, a single tear
blesses the warmth of the heart.
To be happy to know
that people are there;
Contented to know
that people do care.
But for them we cast aside,
the circle whose lives
undefined, undefied and morbid;
huddle together for warmth inside
but the frost pains on the surface.
And boy, we do have no choice
but to plod along and pray
for something in store
that we might choose to adore,
just like ever before -
Oh cut it.
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