we were slowly drawn to what was the end of us
we could not have perceived our silhouettes bearing

”i want to know, what will the future hold for us?”
so full of questions, tongues rolled but lips never spoken
empty looks into weathered eyes

all these times i never questioned, so you never had to lie... for in our hearts we felt time had not changed us;
love hold no progression, no future, just acceptance and sacrifice 

what i see in your new commitment is the abomination of love and in the end love is not worth the effort that we put in to it

i breathe in and step by step head towards uncertain pastures. so it may seem
pastures that in your dreams are of the brightest green. so it may seem
”but i thought you’d understand, this is only possible in a fictionally mind”

i’m buried in books searching for a profound meaning of life, reading what great thinkers before my time thought of;
so i say clever things and they say great minds think alike, but i’m not great and my mind is lost

so feeling happy should be an excuse?
not when i feel like alice falling down into your mind
it’s all great but nowhere real

the echoes of what old philosophers say cloud the thoughts in my mind
so what is truly mine?
since it’s all been done before;
i'm torn to pieces and rendered useless
i ask myself "how did life become so refined?"