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We awake to thoughts that go unfulfilled,
That spill over, Happiness will take a lot of skill. Sometimes love is just a fear of loneliness, A fear the leaves us on our own, And we don’t think about what we deserve, We need to know we’re not alone. Even the gods don’t understand, We’re our most creative when confronted with the truth, And we’re our most fast paced, When avoiding those emotions that bite and scratch their Way through our hearts at night. We’re our most assertive when we’re lying to ourselves, When we paint the walls of hell with sunflowers And white roses. We all lack the courage, when failure is assured, To walk into the dangers of honesty, And it seems to me that fantasy often cushions us deliberately, And the sadness underneath is bequeathed To those thoughts at night that fight against our sleepiness. The death of hope breathes complacency into the heart And rips the soul apart, And starts us down the path of least resistance. But frustration is persistent And the dissonance resonates in the echoes of the soul, Where we fill that big black hole with lies And we shut our eyes and scream our demons to sleep, And lull our wishes to this demanded silence Where reality is chipped away and built into fantasy. Yeah, life and love and hope are chipped away, And built into a fantasy, And all Mankind is guilty of dishonesty When love is just of fear of ending up alone.
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