The Sociologist: The Story of Life

Man looking for his hunt
Great ideas on his mind
Or maybe even
Doors guide him to be blunt
Doorknobs try to turn his mind
Twisting motives and bending time

Woman looking for her hunt
Great ideas on her mind
Or maybe even
Keyholes waiting at her front
Roses pushing from behind

In spite of it all
The door will never find,
The knob
The knob will never find,
The whole
Bluntness, twisting rosy bushes all absurd
A circular motion that leads to where you start

The true self will forever be in thirst
Forever longing for desire
And only in the midst of love
Can we be made numb of our curse
An internal tendency to self-implode

Between destruction and the awe
A line so thin does separate,
The greatest tread along its path
” And until death do us part”
The end

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