Do we all bare a cross when we're born?
Or guilt we access on our way?
Is this Hell from the day we first squint at the sun
As the fresh and brand new innocent babes?
Are we crossing our crossroads forgiving the ones
That are paved easier but make us more skeptical?
Then cut up our feet and bruise our hearts
Choosing easier to find only diabolical?
Is it just me or am I over thinking
The wisdom in taking apart
The puzzles upset while making my path
Hoping to restart my start?
Is grace a word like a dress to wear
All gauzed up with illusions of smiles?
Is the crux of all living embraced by a few
Still carrying the awe of the child?
Am I different or just a free thinker
Poking and prodding my hours
In fanfares demensions to quest as a giant
Before all of my tastebuds turn sour?