What We all Really Are.

I wrote this out of complete frustration.

Can we all take into consideration,

What we're all supposed to be?

We're not great, nor special.

We are what we want to see.

 

We as humans hide behind our dark, clouded mirror.

With a pen a paper, we etch and design exactly what we think we should become.

There is desperation, underneath the configuration.

We are but butterflies looking for strong wind.

 

 So can you think for a moment, about what all of us really are?

 We are windowless souls, pathetic beings.

 We all look towards the future's bright possibility but glance back at the morbid details of our past.

 Deep down, we all realize what and who we are.

We just can't bring ourselves to accepting it.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Does it feel complete? Does it flow correctly or should i add a little something more to it?