Fate is an unrelenting brute.
It’s never tempted by diversion
Or wise men with silver tongues
Forming hopeful hypotheses.
It’s simple though: Que sera, sera.
The young mother,
an abandoned lover,
has felt the cold steel
Of Fate’s unbiased blade
Gliding easily along her cheek
And perhaps the cackling clown
Sobs quietly in his room
After a standing ovation.
Remembering, all too well
Why his smile is simply a mask.
It saddens me that in this day and age, the majority of my generation cares more for what we display on the outside, rather than focus on the souls we stow on the inside. Until this trend diminishes, I do not see myself finding true love, but rather ignorant love.
Another note: If only we realized how full of shit each and every one of us really is, this world would be a better place
A beaten dog, dreads even the kindest people
-Perla Ovitz from: In Our Hearts We Were Giants