Greatness is everyone’s default
A world where all hope is filled in treasure cans
When attacked by reality
We end up doing what we can
A generation that talks and forgets to ponder
When the one who waxes candles at night rises
We stare in awe, filled with supernatural exultation
And proclaim; ha, the fingers are really unequal
Excuses, the crying infant of the man who fails to prepare
Who dreams the day away and sleeps away the night
Eats up every bit he finds so long it is filling
Indulges every emotion, every motion, every notion
Leaving his mind empty and vague
Nature and nurture, his best clues
The man who continually groans
His glorious “if onlys”
A prisoner of birth, a refugee in his soul
Hypnotized like trees by the weathers of life
Shading and springing as time demands
Who wants for nothing but lacks in everything
Who is this man?
Not me, not me, is what you’ll say
Where are you now?
Start thinking
All credits to Fiona Adams
lethe 
🙂
🙂 🙂
I love this writeup soo much
Tis xoo real
Xooo true!!!!!
Ai jux luv it
Nyc work!!!!
Enyene, Thank you.
People were in a state of panic.
Rather lavishly indulge they in comic,
Optimistic never they were,
High hopes were not their,
Pessimism pervades everywhere.