We run around circles, vicious circles
they keep us trapped inside their loop
no easy escape, no one to help
we shout SOS messages,
but people seem to talk in Morse code
and we don't,
Our language is those of the fools,
The ones who tried to live in balance
and ended up with no equilibrium,
out of the ordinary, but not extraordinary.
The world runs around us
and we seem to be looking at it from the inside circle I'm in
sleepless, restless, uncounciousness of the things going on,
Left apart by anyone, but forgotten by all,
just another brick in the road for many
but still feeling like a fountain in the desert.
What a stupid, sick, sad little song,
the song of the minds that no one could understand
(someday, it will become an sonet, years from now maybe an ode,
or nothing at all, just another lyric forgotten in the sands of time)
From where we see it,
Being incomprehensible is both a virtue and a curse,
We are in a constant struggle to understand how the simplest thing can work,
How our minds intraconnect to make us such ridiculously complicated humans,
But we are forever doomed to fail at that mission,
forever condemned not to know what we are,
Who we are and why do we do such things,
But if never knowing what's inside of Pandoras box
means to experience the world in this unic way,
then we make the choice never to open it,
and stay like we are,
enjoying the little pleasures,
rejoicing with the small events,
living things with the emotion of a thousand hearts.
What a idiot paradox when hapiness comes a lot easier and simply when your mind is so complicated,
but so does sadness.
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