I wonder if we were all born with the same capacity to be happy
If we wake up one morning and decide
that happiness is for chumps and I, my friend, am no chump
If the sun rises for the just as well as those less fortunate
If the planet is sufficiently corpulent to maintain us all
If my love is supposed to stay strong or
If it should die and
leave a scar on my heart
Like a lobotomy on different lobes
Half of me still holds on, thank god it's not the living part
I hate thinking that it'll beat on
unaided and unrequited
Survive and thrive
Preserve and repair
Heal and protect me from the descent of the stifling enclosure of the future
Heaven knows I can live through hell fire but
Stars, how will I live like this?
I know, I'm dramatic and I hate it but hear me out
There's nothing out there for me
Not peace or adventure or simplicity or even a disguise
because the sun won't rise anymore
Maybe it will.
I just won't know it.