Clinging on like a Koala to a tree
Won’t let go, can’t let go
‘Cause life only makes sense
When you feign interest in someone else’s
Is it love? They ask
Masking their own emptiness
An excuse to search outside
A perfect distraction for all the seasons
Is it love? They ask
A means to blame someone
For all of them doubts and loneliness
A means to justify this random existence
Is it love? They ask
Must be,
I’ve fallen into it
And the noises have drowned invariably
So, I cling on to it like a koala to a tree
Won’t let go, can’t let go
But, does it matter?
It does make it easier,
A facade, perhaps
But, it does make it easier…
The kind of writing that shows up uninvited, barefoot, at 3 a.m.
