Contradiction
Are we really free?
Is everything meant to be?
All these questions and no answers
No definite answers only indefinite prayers.
Thoughts running longer than fathoms
Explicit and hard to fathom
Staring at us like phantoms
Haunting from ambient ghosts
Indurated at the coast
Where it’s easy to boast
Boast about the life we seek
The dreams we couldn’t reach
And we sat, listened, and heard the preach
Are we really free?
Is everything meant to be?
Is it destiny or something else?
Is it faith or something else?
Is it nurture or nature?
The grand optimism for the future?
Even when we know it’s not coming
Even though we know death is billowing
It’s a surprise with in itself
That is masked with a black vail
Hard to escape
But, we give up, we fail
Fail to shape a better life
We’ve lost and for the last
Where everything was left in the past
So, we’re not really free
Free is a contradiction within it self
Stripping us of our innocence and our inability to find oneself
We take our last breath
And fall to the inevitability of death