It's easy to hide from your problems,
It's easier to flee than fight,
It's easier to hide than love,
It's easier to be wrong than right.
Living is close to a thing like this,
A constant state of nothing new,
Of lies and lost trust, and hope
And nothing affecting you.
But so you work on, for something better,
But in doing so, you become sad,
Because of all the things you try to get done,
You remenesce the life you never had.
Peace,
Beebes