Hear ye

To be safe is to cozy up with your past, Like that old sweater you can’t throw away—a bit frayed, but a blast! What you see is what you get— A masterpiece of chaos, like a cat's hairball at your feet, Born from the brilliant art of dodging responsibility, And a grand delusion that mistakes are just "creative beats.” To love is to pretend you care, oh dear, For something outside yourself—like that plant you forgot to water, I fear. Yes, most religions have turned this into a thriving market, Selling “selflessness” like it's the latest fashion—what a racket! Stained with the colors of thought and wishful dreams, Dulled by contemplating cultures—you know, the usual schemes. And if you ponder long enough, who knows? The future might just wink at you—but only if it shows! But man—oh, what man dares to take a peek, At his own quirky quirks, his blunders, and, let’s face it, his cheek? He is king at heart, ruling with a laugh, In this comedy of life, where we all play our part—just look at the staff!