Apples to blueberries,
Chocolate to raisins,
Taxis to nightferries,
Students to masons.

Your quizical mind,

Wanders the vast expanse of time,
Just trying to find,
A reason to kill,
The demons inside,
While you say your fine,
The choas in your head,
Screaming the words,
You have not yet said.

Like,
Apples to blueberries,
Chocolate to raisins,
Taxis to nightferries,
Students to masons.

Your mind,
Is trying to make the connection, 
But for some reason,
It just can't.

It's tired,
Trying to make sense of the stress.

Maybe it could rest in a world,
Where blueberries grew on trees,
And apples on bushes.
Where raisins always tasted like chocolate,
And taxis floated on air.
Where masons learned algebra,
And students worked with stone.

But you don't live in that world.

Apples still grow on trees,

And raisins are still gross.
The streets are filled with traffic,
And students still have to learn algebra.

Stress, chaos, and anxiety are still here.
They're not going anywhere.

Now,
You can either daydream your life away,
Or stand and try,
Try to fight those demons,
Tell someone what you're thinking,
Try to solve the problem,
And maybe help someone else with theirs.