I imagine my life like a flicker of light,
That sways in accordance to the swing of my fancy,
Where nothing is definite or lined out perfectly,
That seeks no perfection, just always laced with hope,
Laced with memories, sweet and bitter..
When finally that flicker of hope dies like a fire..
My world crumbles like a pile of Jenga,
Bricks of hope that were so strong now just like debris,
And the memories are now just meaningless ashes..
And hope is just a mere dream in a brink of nightmare.
Someone once said first 20 years were the best years..
Then the rest are meant for suffering..
And if so, what's the point of living..
When all you have to look forward to is eternal wrath..
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