I can’t see the darkness within the warm light.
Even when it’s raining there’s no black clouds in sight.
Just damnable optimism calling my name.
I hollered in dark caves but no echoes there came.
Is it something I ate or drank in my tea?
A new secret additive that’s unknown to me?
Maybe the songs in my sleep are to blame.
But, I’m still an insomniac with patterns the same!
No, it must be dug up: this gilded new road.
My shoulders are too square without the old load.
I must not give in to this brighter outlook.
I’m becoming a man who’s not giving a full duck.
Don’t get me wrong I still care about stuff.
Alas, I’m not fixating on me nearly enough!
The past is now fading, the future can wait.
I’m not moaning or griping on the fickleness of fate.
What’s to become of me?
What do I feel?
Now that I can differentiate
From imaginary and real?