Or is it inevitable?
Logic, certainty and conclusions, all concepts of touching naivete?
And is individuality only the product of cosmetic airbrushing?
Pregnant with thought, rich with reason and throbbing with emotion, just a fantasy of youth?
What of belief, is it just all a moment in time?
Is it because mindless sensuality was followed to its logical end?
Or was it because its always the slave who considers himself freer than the free?
Why are broken angsts the refuse that litter the surface of what in other times used to be a fecund mind.
And when did inevitable become an acceptable concept?
When did accept become part of the lexicon?
