My Best Friend
I don't know why it seems to be
That my very best friend has it out for me
He puts me down, contantly picking on me
Taking me places I'd rather not be
Seeing clearly, we both were all sorts of sad
I meekly say "hey, it's not that bad"
His grippling voice tells me that reality
Is the constant source of all our agony
What about happiness, hope, or curiousity?
Do they have no merit in this raw world I see
Now I had to argue against my own thoughts
Collect myself, and reason with my doubts
Could my friend indeed, be my worst enemy?
I have to admit
Our bond is based on familiarity
I think I've learned now the best therapy
For a misled mind to come back to peace
A mind is so delicate, it needs to breath
Let out emotion, just to stop suffacting
My theory is the breaths are minds exhale
Fill emotion up in the air
Which then other minds eagerly inhale
This process has a name can you tell?
Could this be the key to happiness?