Do we all bare a cross when we're born? Or guilt we access on our way? Is this Hell from the day we first squint at the sun As the fresh and brand new innocent babes? Are we crossing our crossroads forgiving the ones That are paved easier but make us more skeptical? Then cut up our feet and bruise our hearts Choosing easier to find only diabolical? Is it just me or am I over thinking The wisdom in taking apart
The puzzles upset while making my path Hoping to restart my start? Is grace a word like a dress to wear All gauzed up with illusions of smiles? Is the crux of all living embraced by a few Still carrying the awe of the child? Am I different or just a free thinker Poking and prodding my hours In fanfares demensions to quest as a giant Before all of my tastebuds turn sour?