The Odds Are Even

As the wind blows outside my open door, I sit and watch the waves dance on the shore I isolate myself into beautiful illusions, Those have been created by my confusions, Abandoning myself, I forsaken my feelings on the shelf Trying to forget the dark past, Trying not to remember the happiness, That didn’t last, My door always opened, For…the nothingness that awaits, For the sadness that creates… The bewilderment that swims in my blood, Freedom may live behind my door, But I am tortured within myself, Freedom doesn’t heal the sore That always complicates itself, My altering feelings, Would shift from a vision to another, From happy to sad, From odd to even, I never comprehended, The mystification that never ended, The sadness that befriended, And the sins that never mended, Behind the door, Freedom awaited me, But my pessimism made me see… All the odds that create destruction, Behind the door that leads to freedom, I see odd and even, I see all the odds even, And I sometimes see evens odd, I could never distinguish, So I live… Surrounded by the hope and angst That my destiny has chosen to give me, I looked outside my open door, Seeing the bright sun, Shining in the dark sky, Surrounded by darkness…