Fickle Is As Fickle Does

It comes without a warning and leaves a thick blanket of gray It eradicates any trace of sound thought with false reason You thought you'd made a choice but those words you cannot say There is no way to decipher what is real and make believe It would appear that all is in fact not what it seemed There is but one choice to make; do you celebrate or do you grieve To answer would mean to make sense of it all How could you possibly grasp onto a single lonely thought If you were to press the wrong button surely you would fall Is this a matter of the heart versus the head How do you choose what the best outcome will be You may think one will bring happiness but will actually leave you dead Death, surely that is most extreme Perhaps it is meant to be taken metaphorically As are all your silent screams Must everything be turned into such a macabre event It's as if you are only capable of darkness and despair All of your sunshine and happiness was prematurely spent Or maybe you've got it all terribly twisted and wrong The truth may be that you never had any sunshine to begin with You always had to fake it just so there was somewhere for you to belong Maybe you are meant to wander and to always be alone You desire endlessly to be treasured and held dear by another soul The more you search for acceptance and love the more you turn to stone There will be no escaping from this idea we call life The farther you swim trying to break free the more you become stuck It's best to accept that your very existence is the cause of your strife