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Literature Text
The winds of time,
the sands of destiny,
the meaning of life.
Why do I ponder so?
About these useless subjects.
It all matters not.
When will my time come?
Why will my time come?
Will my time come at all?
These questions boggle my mind.
I constantly hide them from myself,
but they always come back...haunting me.
How come I can see,
what others cannot?
Why must I be so special, yet so common.
Surely I am not the only one,
surely someone else comes along,
to surely, oh so surely,
slap me in my face.
the sands of destiny,
the meaning of life.
Why do I ponder so?
About these useless subjects.
It all matters not.
When will my time come?
Why will my time come?
Will my time come at all?
These questions boggle my mind.
I constantly hide them from myself,
but they always come back...haunting me.
How come I can see,
what others cannot?
Why must I be so special, yet so common.
Surely I am not the only one,
surely someone else comes along,
to surely, oh so surely,
slap me in my face.
I may fail at graphical art, but poetry is something I may have quite some potential in.
© 2007 - 2024 Oipo
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*slap*