To all those who go out
To find themselves
Tell me,
What is out there
Among the faded lights?
Is there freedom out there
Or is it still confined
To the tiny space
Of what we understand?
And tell me
What did you find?
Do the colours look less whitewashed
The closer that you get?
Do the stars and sun shine brighter
Or can you not tell yet?
How far do you need to venture
To find the thing you want?
Do you even know it's out there?
Do you start to question it
When the world seems so vast
And among a sea of faces
You are a misfit
Tell me, how do you feel
When the things you know are real
Are all left behind
When you go out to find...
Find yourself? Find a friend?
Find a purpose? Find an end
To the lies that we are fed
How do you comprehend?
Does getting lost really
Help you find yourself?
Or is it a distraction
From something else?
What do you do if you come back
No closer than before
To being whole or being happy
Being found, being sure
What happens if the world
Has no answers to your questions?
What do you do then?
Have you any suggestions
For when the only thing you have faith in
Can't help you at all?
How do you carry on?
How do you take the fall?
'Cause when the lies you've been living on
Turn to dust and blow away,
When the ground you've been standing on
Can't support you today,
When all light has turned its back on you
And left you in the dark,
After your journey ends
But your questions remain stark...
Tell me, how do you live
With no knowledge and no friends?
Tell me, how do you walk
When your world's completely dark?
With no touches, with no noise
With no certainty, no voice
To raise and ask
The earth and void
For help
And for a sign...
What is life? What is love?
Who is the God above?
Why does he condemn
Us to suffering with no end?
Where's the map?
Where's the plot?
To our lives?
Have you forgot
That our questions still stand
To the person in command.
All we want is to find
The thing that is behind
Our existence and our lives...
Will plane tickets pay the price
To go out and find ourselves?
How many miles
How many years
Will this journey be?
How do we know for sure
That at the end
There'll be a cure?
What if there was nothing to find all along?
What if uncertainty and lies
Is our voice; our song?
What if we are useless pieces
And were never meant to fit?
'Finding yourself'
Was a lie all along
And we all believed it.
A.N. All my poems are rly short lately.