humancondition
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Rain beats on this roof
Night after night.
Thousands of drops
Dissolve into monotony.
A drop slides down my cheek
And says I love you.
What keeps us from dying?
What makes us afraid?
Why do we persist even when pain invades?
What makes the human condition such as it is?
That might be accounted for by the Id.
The human mind is a devious organ!
It suppresses, exaggerates, or bends all the information it receives
It scans the data thoroughly, never missing an entry
From the corner of my eye she peeks into the world,
Timid and soft-spoken—
I can hear her
But others say they can't hear this girl.
She never bothers to speak up,
Always insisting on getting ignored,
