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