Wearied and dismayed
I found myself staring at a street lined with cherry blossoms
When did the winter end?
I thought it still spring
Pressing for the best, my self-identity bled into the rest
Who am I to anyone?
If I’m nothing to no one, do I still exist?
Everybody has ambitions, everybody has dreams
When do they forget to resist oppression?
When does the beauty of their imaginations fade into a muffled hum
Like a doorbell you thought rang
A guest you forgot came
Lying to rest with their deadened hopes
This is an atrocity in which no one should cope
Every breath is an opportunity
To be crazy
After all, life is far too short to not be
When do the mountains and trees
The flowing streams and finite dreams
Become a separate reality?
When is it that we become so preoccupied with things that seem so desperately important
That we fail to see the triviality?
In a world where the innocent die,
the trustworthy lie,
justice is awry,
and everything beautiful is likened to compromise
Why not look?
Why not be?
Your life is one in its singularity
Let me write
Let me speak
Let me attempt to rise you from the fog
To show you the sun through the bleak
I write to the lost, the downtrodden, the misguided,
the broken, the trying
If it is your dream that you desire
I beseech you: