One can always dream. One can always hope. One can always realize that it is not enough.
What can one do to feel more than just a lonesome unity of nothingness?
Some wait. Some dispair. Some do both.
Whatever-whoever they are/I am.
Should you know better?
I do.
I know that I know not much.
You have Maths, English or Geometry.
You have playing the piano, being polite and sitting up straight.
You have pile-up books that you will read-not-so-much-understand.
You have seconds, then minutes, then hours, then days, then time, then space,
then everything else.
And you're the whole that sums up these little pieces of a messed up puzzle.
I try to make you fit.
You never belong to my puzzle - So do (not) I.
I pray that you will understand me where nobody else does.
Where nobody else tries, 'cause everybody stops by the doorway.
They seem (so) tired from a long walk towards a black-colorful wall. Their light-years...
...my baby steps.
If only I was sorry I lost their exhaustion.
But I would dig in miles for someone I should belong to, for my piece of the puzzle.
And I know it is wrong, to place hopes so high on a piece so little.
Maybe that's why everything fails, like some catastrophic entropy doom.
They feed us fairy tales for breakfast, knowing we are doomed to throw them up by lunch time.
I wont paint it colorful. The words, you know? I could just not say them at all,
they would be as nonsensical as always.
And, as always, I hope.
'Cause breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
"In my mother's house
