we ask ourselves these life-long questions
to blind ourselves from our imperfections
if we lose ourselves in our places
then we hide ourselves behind new faces
looking for a meaning in life
nothing more in our eyes
running towards a place to hide
nothing more in our eyes
walking through our lives alone
wanting nothing but a home
never finding what we want
still asking why, why not
is it fate or is it life
that gives us so much strife
never wanting to find the truth
only asking for the proof
if we try to do things right
we bring ourselves to our own demise
no longer trying; no longer caring
only looking for a way out
people are nice to you; people are kind
really they are hiding the lies
trusting nothing; trusting no one
hoping for something or possibly someone
fearing pain; fearing lies
fearing the truth behind your eyes
looking for answers and knowing the truth
hoping it all is only a ruse
losing ourselves in our mind
knowing only the instinct to hide
craving the life that passed us by
thinking of nothing but life without lies
lying for attention; lying for greed
lying so people will make us feel pleased
lying to everyone while lying to no one
lying to ourselves for a sense of reason
lies can be harmless; lies can be dreadful
knowing which is which can be a struggle
finding this knowledge can be helpful
but at the same time it can be regrettable
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 