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Sitting on a fence of green,

Wondering which way is up.

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Sometimes…

Sometimes, you don’t want to talk.

You just want to look outside your window to the open sky,        gazing at the winged creatures flying by,

thinking what is there and what has gone by.

You think about the past, the present and the future

The would-haves, the there is, and there will be.

Thinking how you could have controlled the past, reign the present, and nail the future.

But as the cigarette last drag finishes, you turn and sit on the empty chair knowing that there is no control. You do not have any control on the things that are going to happen in your life.

 

You were destined to be like this.

And this is who you are.

This is what you were meant to be.

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