There is no path, there is no rule - they are all imaginary,
Your fears, your greed, and hopes; pure illusions, visionary,
As you cope with chosen strife, somewhere else the clock is ticking,
And bizarre ideas sticking on the framework of your thoughts.
If your rules are set in stone, why can others break or bend them?
Could they be trends you remember, or a product of your thoughts?
I will gently mend your luck, pay attention and surrender,
To the whispers of contenders, leave your fears and behold.
Who controls you, who derails you; who can trump your drive to grow?
Who shields your dreams and desires for a simple twist of luck,
If the universe chaotic, keeps expanding when you’re stuck?
Who defines what you are living, and inspires how you flow?
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