There is a way, as they say,
To find the solution and make;
Between the clumsiness of reality,
And the strictness of the fake.
Night after night, I wake up,
Wondering about the riddle of life;
Placing my palm on my head,
Slowly moving to the edge of knife.
Things are not revealed,
So do we keep hiding it?
Will the solution reveal itself,
If the problem is hid in a pit.
Moments pass, memories are born,
Yet some stuff is still unknown;
Better keep those words within,
In this world, weakness isn’t shown?
They say, there is always a way,
So do me a favor and tell;
When was the last time you cried,
And when did you let society hide those tears away.