The World Through the Looking Glass

My thoughts are weathered and abused,

Because they are always being used.

To define upon my understanding,

Of this world; it is utterly demanding.

Who are we? What are we about?

Do we have choices in our lives route?

Or do we sit here following a line,

The line of life, of greatness and decline.

Why can’t we take blame for anything anymore?

But we’d rather throw it at others; what for?

Accept your mistakes, accept the past.

Accept that you could always be better, alas.

But don’t shrug your shoulders and say,

“Tomorrow will come, tomorrow will be the day.”

Because tomorrow always comes,

Yet nothing has changed, you twiddle your thumbs,

You sit there waiting for life to act upon you.

“Seize it! Rescue it. Make anew…”

Or else you’ll forever be waiting,

Waiting for life to happen; contemplating.

Fight, try! Try as hard as you can!

One day you’ll look back at where it began.

But if you never start living, you’ll always be a line.

A line on wallpaper, following a pattern; a design.

The same as every other line in the earth.

So make the best of what it’s worth.

So tell me why my thoughts are weathered and abused.

And why I am the one always being accused.

I lived my life the only way I knew how.

I stepped out of the line and look at me now.

I may not always be smiling; I may not always seem cheerful.

But I can say that it is better than living fearful,

Fearful of being a penny short…