Poetry (words)


Is it a place, a person, does it even exist? I think it starts with a view, but everyone sees with different eyes. The eyes only see what the mind is willing to accept. 

Happiness is definitely an ebb an flow thing, equilibrium gets knocked on occasions, but it’s completely natural. 

We assume the idyllic is the goal. I outgrew walls a long time ago, contentment isn’t about property or ownership. It’s not a shopping list. 

Just being is a struggle sometimes, but I think it’s key to happiness. Being who you are. There’s not a place made especially……for anyone.  

What if we stopped trying to be something extraordinary. 

We’re constantly caught up in the drama, a drama of our own making. 


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