My life is in a box,
Filled with sand.
Full of moments & instances,
That overflow through my hands.
Sometimes I question,
Why I live this kind of dream.
Where everything is chaos,
And madness is to every bit extreme.
My life is set on sand,
That sinks my feet.
It keeps me afloat everything else,
While burying monsters beneath.
Sometimes I wonder,
Why I settle for this kind of dream.
Where anything can happen,
Like my feet seeping through the streams.
My life is set in a sandbox,
Of familiar make.
It is my very own substance,
That nobody in the world can ever take.
Sometimes I query,
Why I settle for this kind of dream.
Where nothing is out of my reach,
Not even the unseen.
