Life is so playfully unpredictable
So ironic at times
That its difficult-
To determine fiction
From nonfictional
Reading between the thin lines
Of love and hate
Trying desperately not to
Lose yourself while you wait
Meaningless...
Because all the while
Every ounce of effort
You put in was seedless
Nothing's ever black or white
Nor crystal clear
For once I wish I could
See-through the stained glass
And just hear
The truth
But just as quickly as that thought
Crosses my mind
I'm brought back by faint memories
Of my youth
Thoughts of rainbows
And butterflies
Hot summer days and sunshine
And everything beautiful
