I Don't Think I Would Ever Be The Same,

"It's good to strive for the best, though sometimes, you need to strive for the better." -TheHen

P.S. I know that I can use the quote font, but I prefer this one. Also, you don't have to agree, I'm just sharing 'cause why not?

We drown ourselves in the illusion,

That we drive our lives,

Lost in our own confusion,

There are always secret knives.

We believe we're so wise,

Blinded by unknown lies,

Our destinies held hostage,

By the forbidding skies.

Though who's to say,

That we can have it our way?

The truth held at bay,

From clueless minds,

The changes so mere,

Only seen when we rewind.

Life is not driven by us,

Though we may think we're the biggest bus,

That destiny lies in our hands.

But if you opened up,

Realize,

We are afraid to admit,

That life was never lead,

By us.

Words would mean nothing,

If there wasn't a story behind them.

Maybe there was a fire,

Dancing through the night,

Destruction alight,

The times so dire,

Blazing inferno,

Swallowing it all,

It roars and crackles,

Restraining lives by shackles,

Devour the countless souls,

Trees, skies alike,

Apathy towards those,

Who are helpless,

Who are trying uselessly,

To overpower,

"Flee, little beings,

Flee far, far away."

The fire cackles in its own testament,

Then it sweeps its arms across,

The vast, burning land.

Emptiness,

Barren ground,

Ashes that flit around,

So many will never be found,

Yet now there is an ending,

But a new beginning,

To start again,

To retrieve what is lost,

To realize new dreams,

And to burn bright once more.

I wish not to be with someone,

But with somewhere,

A place that is free,

With surreal scenery,

A place where I can watch,

The Sun,

At the crack of dawn,

The running fawns,

Grazing,

The looming mountains protecting,

The greenery,

The canyons,

The one canary,

Who sings its song,

Who makes me cry,

In sorrow and in joy,

I don't want to be with one,

I want to be with the setting sun,

The endless sky,

As I close my eyes,

And open my soul,

For I can trust the trees,

And listen to the rustling leaves.

When I think of home,

I think of you,

Where the skies were a beautiful blue,

Where there were never tears nor rue,

Where the crackling hearth,

Bathed it's warmth into the Earth,

Its dancing flames,

Reminding me,

Of the echoed laughter,

And the times on the porch,

With the sunlight shining,

When we sat together.

I can't help but laugh,

At your insane remedies,

For our long gone love,

Will stay buried,

I can never bother to hate you,

There is no need,

I'm just glad,

That you suffer my pain.

Boredom is in a way,

Sense of freedom.

The only reason you're bored,

Is because you chose,

Not to act.

It's funny how,

We look at words,

We are stunned by their meaning,

We give them so much prestige,

We are enchanted by their form,

Yet it is almost never thought,

That it all comes from our eyes,

From the other world,

Of silent nature.

I don't know if it's you or me,

All I know is that one of us,

Maybe both of us,

Have changed.