The Past of Pain
It's all said but not done.
Helpless and lost as one.
Searching for the light that shines in the dark.
Clueless, in a world of so many.
Praying and hoping that it all gets washed away.
The life of becoming a stray.
Trying to communicate but nothing answers.
Pleading the case but nothing matters.
Yeah, the mind knows.
Simplifying the process, slowing down the progress.
Maybe you'll guess...
Unidentified lonely steps, becoming one who regrets.
What's worse? He who forgets.
Forgotten in a place that consists of hypocrites.
Idiots, who put lives in danger of the innocence.
But in a sense, it makes sense...
The people, the population, specified by location, struggling, praying it doesn't get taken.
Oriented by culture, the few, the tortured, homeless and less fortunate.
Defiance in a whole.
The abundance in a soul, which seeks drugs and abuses, becoming cold and useless.
Lets optimize that...
Imagine life on a mountain,
Where alcohol becomes a fountain of inspiration,
And drugs become useful medication instead of someone's sweet temptation.
Call it an odd examination, but it's no test, when it's written and laminated.
Falsified information is what you see.
Description for the blind.
So what's the key?
Faith, in most cases.
No matter your religion or belief.
No more stressing, you determine what you're destined.
Life's written, just read your lesson.
