Walking paradox in Sunday’s best
Where you going with such a coy smirk?
Where you tryna be?
You know nothing of this world
But it knows all about you
Pressured to fit a mold
when you are in fact its maker
you are more than just a pawn on the chessboard
you are the hand which moves it
the mind which thinks it
the stagnant, sweet air in which it sits
your all encompassing nature has ironically belittled you
doing everything at once feels peculiarly like doing nothing at all
doing nothing strangely enough
takes enormous effort