We are the same
We are the same. In day and night. In fortune, misery,
alike.
Forever right and always wrong, it’s all the same, our
living song.
We are the same. We try to change. We claim to open novel
doors.
Consistency of our plight is overshadowed by our deeds.
How unpredictable and strange we start and finish our wars.
And outcome from our intent, emotions’ bouncy proceeds.
We twist and turn in our mind, we seek to fill more empty
space,
We rest our heads on our goals, but truth be told, we’re in
a daze.
There was a time when we explored. We now climb to our
demise.
We’re never boring, never bored. If we despise, it’s only
lies.
Our eyes are open. Hearts, like ice. Our actions smooth and
calculated.
However weak, or maybe strong, we always sing our own song,
And walk along, but still alone, and our uniqueness
overrated.
We hurt, we crave, we fear, and try, and our stories variate,
But our judgments, some exposed and others hidden, just a
bait.
For our differences vain, and our opinions subjugated.
Our dreams and goals are rather small, but still, they make
us feel elated.
We are the same. We bicker, still. We argue over petty
things.
The biggest wars, the greatest tensions obscure resolve,
destroy intentions,
And cause not victories, but grief. And yet somehow we
believe that battle is the only way.
It’s not about what we say, it’s our conviction in ourselves
preventing us from seeing clearly.
And disregarding every sense, we go back to feeling tense.
