I shouldn’t let everything get to me.

Depending on where you are,

Your views on every single thing

That you believe in

Can change

It’s sad that it determines

Your true happiness too.

How can everything by you

Be said so perfectly?

Like such.

I’m a well written novel,

The characters learn their lesson

Live a perfect life.

Or lie.

In reality,

People don’t understand a DAMN thing

Not that well

But they write it so perfectly

It’s almost believable.

You don’t understand.

They didn’t learn the lesson they wrote themselves.

So where do they get off,

Trying to tell me how to live.

Is it wrong to want to just exist sometimes?

It’s pretty fucked up logic if

Someone tells you rules are made to be broken.

A little too crude sometimes.

Why the fuck,

Are you so naïve?

You never understand a damn thing,

And live your life so perfectly

On the grave of another,

Don’t deny it, you know it’s true.

How do you know if someone ever died there or not?

Past lives are something else.

Living.

Lived.

And you’ll never remember what you had

To begin with.