We are the architects.

Do you ever look at the blueprints of your existence?
Nothing ever seems to be as it was planned.
Your happiness was all a charade,
Perhaps illusions of grandeur backed with the silent notes of hopelessness.
But what do I know?
I live this broken life that you do,
I bleed when I am wounded just the same.
This is no guide book for the forgotten,
These are only words spoken from a tongue laced with fear.
Yet I know that we are the architects of our own disasters.
Our best efforts seem to always end in our worst memories.
So let your new dreams be inspired by failure,
With the intentions of defying the divine words,
The words you have written to your book of fate.
After all you are the architect with a new trick up your sleeve.

We are the architects.

dreckenschill

Kinderhook, United States

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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