It is what I see I make meaning of,
My feelings are mine so I keep discrete.
Truth be told I fear my dreams
A clear projections of what I believe
They come in various forms
Not following any norms or breaks any don’ts.
My reality my heaven
This is the place I can behold
Truth be told this is what I see
And it is what makes me sane.
The tangible, the believable, the real deal
This is the place for me.
My eyes, the very things I don’t want to see is what is brought before my eyes.
I thought eyes are supposed to see the best in people not the worst.
Is it a choice, is it really necessary? Did my confusion cause this?
Is it what it wants me to see or it is me who makes them happen?
I prefer the better ones but what I get never amuses me.
Truth be told what my eyes sees is never what I get call it utopia.