Why do we do the things we do.
Not caring of the pain or joy it brings later.
Soon finding out,
That everything is a sham in its own right.
For there is no right way!
Nor wrong way!
As biases it may feel,
Don’t ever say,
It’s not true.
Of how we do something right,
End up being wrong.
Only to end up still wrong,
As we lean for what is right.
Is it how we do things,
Right and wrong,
Bring people down,
But also back on their feet.
It’s an endless fight,
Of equal balance,
Not:
Shared with not only ourselves . . .
But with others as well,
As lame of answer it is,
Call out on me if you want,
It’s how I think,
You may side with me or not.
Know in the end,
I won’t give a damn.
Pat me on the back for a job well done,
Troll me endless with hate,
For I don’t speak or think as you,
As again,
I don’t care.
Hunt me down,
And try to prove me wrong,
But in the end,
I will be right . . .
How could I be right?
When aiming to be wrong?
If you haven’t caught on then,
Then I know I have become right and wrong.
Wrong to think I change my own thoughts,
In hopes to fill others as a copy,
Of a paper-jam clone mining a reflection,
Of who knows who?
Yet,
Glad to be right,
That I don’t have to prove anything,
For this are just plain words to read,
You could have just stop now and left,
But stayed and listen.
For somehow,
Just as a the paper-jam clone,
We are the same.
We just don’t know how that is.
So,
To end this,
Do what how would think not one self,
But as them as well . . .
Be one,
But be two.
And live with it.
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