Ponderings

Why do we fall for what could have been?

Why is it that fantasy is more desirable than reality?

Are our thoughts truly our wings?

Or are they the ones that keep us grounded—

Caged?

Is the truth so painful—

That none can know—

That those who do—

Lose themselves—

While grasping—

Desperately—

Onto the broken pieces of their minds?

If so,

Ignorance is bliss.

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