Times and how They're Loaned

I had been mistaken all of my life. It started out kind of as a joke; I was young and didn't know any better, still believed that there was a truth underneath every layer of questions. I saw no end. I would go out and run in the woods with a mission in my life, with a serious expression, keen eyes forward and cutting through the fog until I got closer and closer to where I needed to be. Leaves passed by, ferns that crept into your eyes; the palm trees would hang over you as the wind would lift their spirits every time they dropped down too far.

I was young; that was the point. The mirror showed me a face that I couldn't recognize that was only beginning to grow hair, and my eyes seemed to show everyone else that had entered my head. I ask myself if it was real or just a dream but no one tells me the truth because they don't know, but want to know. We're all thirsty for it as power changes in life. Even then, although I didn't know it, it was still the main idea; I'd grip through it, my teeth clenched, sweaty-eyed and squinted, staring out through glass and wishing it were gone, getting rid of it, getting rid of everything and trying to change in any way.

When we grow older do we only lose ourselves in a world without boundaries?

When we grow older do are friends tend to fall down on their knees so hard, wrapped up in chains and unable to stand again? I don't think that I'll ever understand; maybe I'm naïve to being an adult. I still feel smaller than everyone, not that it matters.

Everything will feel perfect when you can see it all fall apart in my mind. Maybe that's a prediction, it probably is, every future tense ends up being a prediction eventually. I can't see but I know that he's crying right now. Is that what matters?

When some one falls in their life, and everyone is around to hear it, do they hear it?