Am I to believe all these circumstances? Have I been bred to be so naïve?
Sometimes it feels like platforms are falling into the path of my steps, and I get to where I’m supposed to be. This calculated fate designed for destiny; premeditated not by me. Do they think that I don’t see just because I’ve always been here- that my sheltering would leave me transfixed?
To hear all my life the beauty of the painted skies, but when I finally reached out for them, my knuckles resounded a knock!
I beseech you the truth. Lies forevermore, nevermore.