The truth is, we don't know who we are, but we are all of these things.
We want more.
We want out of here!
We want love
and we hate...
who we are- our lives, our houses, our jobs, our bills
We hate that we are nothing more
that we havent reached our dreams
or even realized them.
We are every little hurricane, every burst of joy, an exclamation point- the passing of a joint.
We bath in cliche, prick each of our fingers on every thorn we meet
we all come out of it alive, or not.
its a simple equation. The first breath plus, minus the first kiss, times the last heartbreak, all divided by ambivalence, grief, hope, dreams, money, and persistence, equals death.
in the end, we all are one with the grass.