Whatever the answer may be
It still touches me
The snow in my mind and heart
The rains which blocks me
From my conscious self
A lonely experience of yore
Too much on my plate
You think?
I am left with a promise of certainty
A promise of emotional blizzard
That only the sunlight of idiots can melt
Personally,
It gives me a pulse
Or should I say a ‘pause’?
Now I fast forward and play my music
What make I of all that?
I cannot possibly answer
Self-incriminations…
Legal balderdash…
Begs the question ‘why do we never get an answer?’
For I am in a Plethora of doubt
Circumventing uncertainty
I’ve been burnt by the dichotomy of virtue
Reality talks
Rubbish walks!
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