Tables get turned, at the worst times,
People get burned, without a sign,
And there's a fine line, between love and hate,
Nothing is ever fine, when it's in the hands of Fate,
And why do they send, in my time of need,
The short end, to make me sweat and bleed,
Why is the grass greener, on the other side,
I guess that's his demeanor, or maybe my questions just collide,
With the big picture, that I'm trying so hard to get,
But it seems like my whole life is already pre-set,
And I keep looking to the skies, and looking at the ground,
But it seems like lies, are the only things I've found,
So who knows whether the cup is half full or empty,
And why do I want everything the devil uses to tempt me,
Evidently I am alone on the quest for answers,
And this robot way of thinking is spreading like cancer... |
Submission Name: Optimism
