Ficly

This

This life is made of your choices,
The tone and base of all your voices.
So sing until those glasses shatter! -
I hear they marvel at the splatter -
And while you’re not the Chosen One,
You still have, yet, the best to come.
This mess? It goes along with time
When your life lines begin to rhyme.
No yesterdays, and no tomorrows
Else life comes back unwanted sorrows —
The present is a gift, they say,
So do not let it slip away:
The skies do clear to brightest blue,
Then in the evening, sunset blooms.
Your Wonderland repays its quatre;
Black back to white and sand to water.
These worries will not stop the show,
So if you love this, let them go.

View this story's 5 comments.