I have to do it all, but I need to do nothing,
I am empty.
I am over flowing,
I long for your touch, continuously, but I require solitude for sanity,
I re-run the same naïve mistakes, yet as stupidity repeats, my wisdom increases…
I know not what I need, and I don’t know all I don’t need,
I yearn to be tamed. I fight all attempts,
I am so tired, yet I have never felt more alive,
Am I strange or just human?
Complex contradictions of a common kind,
Is inconsistency the only consistent left among us all?