Beliefs
She believed in something grand, something different.
Like that, she was changed, formed in a sense of new.
But why would she want to end?
That’s what made her happy.
See, this is how it all begins, and she takes a breath
To the next page, turn it over and start the new life
But that’s not the life
she had imagined exactly, it’s different
than the one she planned, why should she choke on a breath
to the new
if she’s happy
now, then where is the end?
The end
it’s simple, so easy to see, that her life
means nothing more than measured amongst her feelings, if she’s happy
And if she finds that she strays different
then, only then, she sees herself in the new
And she finds that it’s harder and harder, to take another breath
Choke. She chokes. You’re so silly. You choke on a breath?
Oh, you’re truly something. Perhaps that is your end
note. That is the hand you are dealt, no? I can see a new
comparison rummaging about in an empty drawer, your life
means more than just an idea. It’s different
the way I see it. You can’t let yourself be happy.
If I had to decide, she was just a fool for thinking that happy
meant that in each breath,
something different
would happen, an explosion of reality, and in the end,
the very ground she walked on would shatter her brittle heart, and new life
would spring around her, charting the world in a shade of new
What is a shade of new?
She doesn’t know. If it makes her think for a moment, she’ll say, “Well, it must be when you realize you are happy
in a state of bliss, in a life
that leaves you gasping for one measly breath,
just one more, since everything is ahead of you. And yet that very feeling is pure and just and good, so when it comes to an end,
she is left feeling truly different.
So you say, she believed in a new idea, grounded in tracing her breath
Across a large vicinity in a mind map. Through that, did she find a happy end
For her, for me, for you, this life, it’s much different now. Much different.
