The illusion of life,

Of struggle and strife,

A thing humans feel,

Each day and each night.

We’re born and we die,

That’s just how it is,

There is nothing else to add to this.

We are under the illusion,

A constant confusion,

That work and play will halt absolution,

That the smarter we are,

The less it will hurt,

But it is not smartness that we need,

When our bodies stop their constant work,

We look upon what makes us happy.

Psychology is what bring the chills to my brain,

To study human behavior

Helping my fellow people as well as creating my new self.

Death, it is final,

No alternate end,

The job of a psychologist will answer the questions,

Why do we love love that hurts,

The constant struggle,

That we call life,

Will now be answered by this job

We walk around everyday,

Not knowing why we do certain things

Yet we study animals and are certain for their actions.

I will be a psychologist to learn my actions,

As well as spread the acknowledgement of our ownselfs.

And we will live

And we will live,

Knowing who we really are.

Do you know who you are?