Knees, Skinned

What is important?
There was once a belief system.
It now finds itself being contradicted.
Virtues have become vices.
Fine lines divide plenty.
Sensible isn’t always good.
Good doesn’t always bring happiness.
Whose is important?
But neither does sensible.
Which way will the road curve?

The lines are blurred, decisions difficult
and smiles fleeting.
Smirks are presented openly,
on soft velvet cushions.
Confusion is found
in abundance,
swirling,
shape-shifting,
refusing to budge.
White noise reaches a fever pitch,
interfering with basic thinking,
diminishing efforts to concentrate,
but the struggle to win against the haze continues.
Scowls are hurled and words bite.
Eyes, once kind, now shoot merciless daggers.
Soft lips that murmured sweet nothings spew venom.

The sun shines brightly,
the sky is at its bluest,
the flowers all in bloom.
Sitting on soft green grass,
reading favourite books all day long,
as warm breezes caress.
Perfect day after perfect day, after perfect day
…nowhere else to go.
What is paradise?!

Grappling with the truth,
refusing to disbelieve,
unwilling to let go,
promising to hold on,
risks must be taken,
happiness must be found.

There may be nothing perfect.
How much should be imperfect?

An effort is made
to understand some proverbs
taken for granted.
Home, sweet home.
Home is where the heart is.
Where’s yours?

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