No present bliss of yours
assures future;
nor can it be so forced;
to heal, nurture
your wounded, bleeding source
of false treasure,
nor even set your course
you've no measure;
we just exist, that's all;
with some leisure
sometimes we're hidden, called
with no answer;
not for we're bordered, walled;
sometimes we were;
but disappear from walls;
for long hours
is this what we're born for,
to be better;
do we deserve the more
that we hunger;
does worthwile mean we sore
what was tender;
can't we survive so far
without hinders;
maybe we're solely born
to break borders;
maybe we only mourn
to grow stronger;
maybe we've really torn
our own covers;
but maybe there are doors
we can't enter.
