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In your head, the world is balanced. Clouded and content.
In their head it is ending, nothing going as is meant.
In my head all is swirling, drifting idly between you both.
This life not only guilty for pain, but also for our growth.
Why hate a world that’s all I know? All that I have, to it I owe.
Why love a world so deeply faulted? My true emotions deeply vaulted.
Is this an existence of pain or love, beauty or destruction?
Aspects of nature, soul, emotion draw a simple, sweet seduction.
Yet loss and hardship, betrayal and sorrow constitute a great obstruction.
To praise or persecute an outcome of our own shortcoming,
We then therefore generate a subtle gentle numbing.
So we diminish the triumph and ignore the evil;
Our reason stretched beyond retrieval.
Blinded eyes and biased hearts condemn or acclaim a false perception.
Am I, it seems, the only one not influenced by discrete deception?
Or is this just another illusioned recollection?