Breathe: in and out - where are the controls?
Smile, sing, or shout, whatever to console.
Place your hand on your heart: what's its motivation?
The pink inside your head: how does it know its vocation?
Today, I can dive or I can soar above clouds.
Tomorrow, I may die but my story still resounds.
Nothing proves that straw couldn't be spun into gold.
A poisoned apple, however, should never be sold.
Nothing in this world makes sense,
Except a mirror's truth to the beast's sixth sense.