These little things.

Our insecurities are proof we’re only human,

Prone to attachment and emotional contentment.

Could you show me a way out of it?

Our loneliness is a lack of connection we fail to build,

Shown in our smiles at social events.

Can I have some help to build it?

Our fears are the need for approval of one’s selflessness,

Known for it’s famous misjudgment of abilities,

Might I find a way to construe it?

Our thoughts, a spark that causes forest fires,

Left alone, can run us into the ground,

Do get this on a short leash!

Our hearts, a brittle glass house amidst the garden,

Mourned for it’s shattered pieces of memories of love,

Could you hand me the tape please?

And I could go on, but the night isn’t as young, for the race is fairly long, and the song isn’t yet sung, to be precise and yet concise, right here should suffice.


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