It’s one to lose hope,

to walk alongside fate,

we all imagine a vanity

keeps us penned to the ground.

When told it’s all right

we would rather

deny ourselves

any judgment.

Yet, speaking of all

there always seems

a penchant for remorse

when coming to terms.

Asking along the walk

what if we decide

our live’s importance

relies upon worth.

How do we find it?

Always we are told

there is a light to seek

over the next body

of quiet silence.

We would rather sometimes

remain desolate,

we’re good at it,

at least I think I am.