Same old -
When you grow up learning
Of the most idealistic scenarios–
You start searching for them when you’re older.
Obviously, unconsciously. Deliberately.
And when every story you see–
Is a perfectly captured composition.
You start searching for those frames in li!
Very consciously, meticulously. Desperately.
As a kid you always drew the same–
Two pointy mountains, a river in between
and the sun above, two tick-mark-birds!
And as you grow, some where you unlearn
You learn to let go of those predefined frames.
Yet somedays, there is a familiarity, there is comfort,
There is growth in the struggle to achieve,
not the idealistic but the annoyingly
imperfectly perfect composition.
It’s the hyped up drama that befalls the end– succumbing to emotional outburts
At the failure of achieving that perfect fram!
My imperfect dramatic life frames reality–
Then on somedays– there’s beauty in being basic.
The basic tee, the normal sensibility.
The not so trendy song, the repeated shades.
The same old frame. The same old composition–
It’s how you place yourself in it
that makes it yours– in full gr!
