Can't be known by anything,
But some kind of instinct based on some kind,
Of pointless curiosity.
And when your world comes crashing down,
Upon you like some thumb upon a tack,
The point exists only because your desires,
Lack the complexity to push back.
How many times, like this very one,
I've allowed myself to be swallowed up by grief,
Not because the circumstances around me have changed,
But because I refused to change my beliefs.
But that's alright,
It's a choice that I have concsiously made,
When sorrow is something that will help me,
Appreciate my previous state.