Although our pattern is beauty, wings of a butterfly
It utters complex attraction resulting in arrant chaos
But can you truly say that the art of love is worth every cry
No prediction for our diverging random outcomes
To this fallible behavior, I want to defy
Small differences within our childhood bring error
But who are we to just take this propaganda and comply
Our beauty will always be fogged by our destruction
But after our digressions, we will be there to unify
One change can be our future or our great demise
But it's not up them as we just idly standby
2/15/13
YOU ARE READING
Until then
PoetryI live with a mathematical, logical mind, but tend to be immersed in emotion. The imbalance can both prosper and hinder me. with love, b 1987-until then...