The destiny – whether one’s ready to
die on it or die for it –
has never been else than a given decision,
been our ever nature to screen it,
cast it, and act on it until we own our last deadend reality.
(The die has been cast. – Julius Caesar)
Hell will be one of the most well-known concepts ever:
is there anybody who needs to tell
empty feelings, pains and people who feed on each other,
and is there anybody to tell we are living hell;
all vain trials, hardships and sacrifices just to live happier –
the so-called gent are like the mademoiselle,
devils on Earth by sole purpose to hurt in- and exterior;
are not the lands better without us to dwell,
here, it is better to say, not us, but there are devils from hell.
(Hell is empty and all the devils are here – William Shakespeare)
Social butterfly: A person who jumps from one social group to another, somewhat being accepted in all of them, but not really belonging to any of them without having deep connections with any.
So, here I am again; leaving a life and entering another.
Often, I cut socializing as if I don’t even bother
Cause it is and it causes a great pain to me and even other;
I am here today, then nowhere tomorrow
As if my whole existence were a repeating funeral
Like a careless butterfly flying from flower to flower.
Before I would take the blame on this horrible misbehavior,
Understand that I am not doing it as volunteer;
To see the truth that I’m also a victim here
Take my shoes and listen how I feel:
Emptiness and loneliness are my biggest fear –
Right away I get a life, I feel empty as if not being there,
From a minute to another I feel myself lonely,
Leaving a life and trying another that homes me.
You’d understand it if I demonstrated, but I really need to leave now, good bye homie!
With condolences for the times I stole from thee,
I’m really not a thief, but I felt so empty and lonely;
To borrow a life, none of you’d have bestowed me.
Should I look for meaning in life if I know
I am following my own product?
Kill or beget; we are all following a flow –
Myself, I am barely able to deduct
Or anticipate the so-called reality I undergo.
Have I missed an important act?
A purpose I should have known a long ago?
Cup all of my years in your hands as a fact
Of that I was living, and throw ’em with a blow;
Coffee and cigarettes will distract me while you’re doing so.
(Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee? – Albert Camus)