Being immortal is like this:
You lose some
And then you lose some more
An eternity of loss
Held together by fleeting moments of joy
Emphasis on "fleeting"
Is it enough?
No, it never is
Good enough isn't really good enough
Maybe no one gets a happy ending
They just get to end
Everybody seems to want to live forever
But I've never understood why....
There is a futility to human happiness
It doesn't last
Pain does though
Hurt is dependable
You can count on it
It can count on you, too
So. Much. Hardship.
Love may be just another fairytale
The reality is more toxic
Plan B fails
So you have to take another pill
My tears are as infinite as I am
Not as portrayed by my fellow Dorchestarian
It's more complex
Like a delicate spider's web
You catch more flies with honey
Unless you have eight legs
Spiders are the Weavers of Destiny
Fate is something we wait for
But Destiny, ah, now that is a choice
And it appears I chose wrong...yet again
Like I said, I'm infinite
And apparently, so are my choices
Good and bad
For better or worse
In sickness and in health
We are poorer for our riches
Cosmic and Karmic.
Loving and Lovely.
The Sun sets in the blink of an eye
Even when taking the road less travelled by
Hopefully, all is not yet lost
For, this time, it is too steep a cost.