Searching, searching, searching.
I turn, stumbling forward;
The sky is beneath me
As I search for a reason.

My world is naught but chaos,
Fulled with nonsense and irony.
Yet I struggle to find a way,
A way to escape this madness.

A slashed arm, an unfallen tear,
They are reminders of dark times.
A soft moonbeam, a still night
Bring more peaceful memories.

Where does this all fit in?
Can pain and love coincide
Without harming the other,
Or must one eventually win?

Searching, searching, searching,
The impossible is reality,
And reality is naught more than
A word which comes across my lips.