Can I do that when it's a lie,
To realize that and just sigh?
To know that things are incomplete,
And yet unable to patch it in?
To know that you're someone else's,
And even if they're the greatest, the best,
Wishing them hell and heck just because,
They're the ones holding you back.
But would I act had the path,
Be cleared of all obstacles.
If the way was clear,
And all I had to do was call dear?
The feelings are there, the thought exists,
The heart beats, the blood pumps.
The mind works, the words rearranging,
The imagination churns, the perfect world into place.
Then the words become stuck, a gargled grunt.
The gestures a mess, a meaningless action.
A perfect world, a perfect life,
Self-destructs in front of the eyes.
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