If there was another way, then quite possibly everything that happens to be on a different side. One which knew people as a whole collectively lose, even when trying to keep in touch and collect every bit other people don't understand, but that's okay on the days when I can't feel. Those days mean more than the ones that never did. If to fall down means to get back up again, then I guess there's a reason for falling In love, love is a fickle theme; sometimes, it'll hurt, times you won't even believe that it's possible, and sometimes you'll find what you're looking for just at the precipice of another place where you never knew each person alive can barely find another way to be.
But if I look, maybe then I will, after a long settle. People wonder, but I don't. I could see with everything differently if not jaded eyes, and a forever type of feel could lead to a felt way of possibilities, even when quadratic equations don't extend past the point of no return.
Could I find another way to tell them that I'm broken, and I'm not sorry, even after everything? The way to be could never be, and if I fell down on a different day, still, possibly see among the vast ocean of realized thought. Is there but a small drop into the pond as the clouds burst, and the rain falls?
Do we crusade, or are the warriors of our tears nothing but the lives we live to try to better, with the betterment that we once received? Back and forth, as it goes, I could only find another tertiary, found at the end when it never even started. Place to be, how many times will it take before its staircase is no longer before it's stuff, and we feel out of place?
How many last times before tomorrow's end will it take? In the time that it does, will it allow us another more harmonious life to lead?

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