Questions. What is it about them?
We use them so harshly.
We interrogate ourselves as if we were a suspect,
Accused of a crime full of deceit.

Why is it that you're still here?
In a place infested with trickery and deception.
There lies your destination, yet it's so far away.
It's persistent.
This uneasiness that weighs you down so deep,
But all you want is serenity.

Your conscience scurries in and out this endless maze,
Eager to find a way of escape.
Your voice is sculpting your future.
Your actions lace in between the truths and the lies.
You're engraving every moment of your life,
And time only flies by.

Pondering across the thought of tackling reality,
Only to discover that all you needed was a light.
All that was of vital importance was this light.
A light that silently prances within places unseen.

Unfold your vision, the light was before your eyes.
Ever since the very first day you've been alive.

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