Prologue:
After many (oh many, many) moments of being miserable, helpless and all that jazz.. I realized this is short lived. So I decided to be positive about it, rather than cribbing or whining. Stuff happens. Meh. {stuff: startling realization. startling in a bad way}
(Having said that, this doesn't mean I won't be mopping around. I still will, but it is commendable that I have a optimistic approach to it, right?)


Why fight for an Inspiration?
I'm pouring myself a cup of fate,
And waiting for it to cool..
So I can drink into a blissful oblivion.

Why define? Conform or Decide?
I'd rather dismiss and smile,
Being perfecting content,
With the flaws, the questions,
The supposed: taken-a-wild-shot-at kind of answers.

Why question?
I'm stitching myself a vision,
and an additional pacification,
Using colours, prints and faith.
If you look close enough,
It will say:
"Hello there. This is me. The End"



Epilogue:
Hey. Atleast I try.