Tall grass surrounds you.
No matter how hard you kick or flail, the grass stands tall.
So you wander aimlessly.
Sometimes you come across another being. Exchange. You leave.
But sometimes, the being offers their hand.
Perhaps you take theirs into yours.
And then you wander together, but it's not as bad, because you're together.
Though nothing make sense, you like to make sense out of it together, for life should have sense made of it.
That's what you think in a senseless world of tall grass.
It becomes your objective, your ultimate goal, you won't stop before enough sense has been made.
But once you're tugged two ways, what sense is there to be made?
Once you no longer have a hand to hold, how are you supposed to handle the sense or the lack of it?
You give up or you die trying.
