Is-there more to-this life then what we've-been told, is-there more to-getting by then getting-by on what we know, is-there more to-this design then what we see-in-our souls, is there to more-to reality more-to rationality to individuality more-to identity then-what we perceive, do-I even need-a-reason to be me, does-anyone-ever-need-a reason to be? Would-there be any-point if-you-already knew who-to-be? Life-is a miracle and-every individual is incomparable, it's incredible, every human being, and every living thing, inexplicable, the-miracle really is-that reality even exists, that we can live, that we can laugh and sing, is humanity a gift? Or-a curse that-we-all have-to-learn to-live with? Sometimes I-ain't so sure, why? I guess that-I'm caught, trying to-live life right, but which way is-right and-which way is wrong? When-is honesty too much, and-chivalry not enough, kindness crushed, happiness given-up, what happened to love, an-the search for-the one? Will-I-ever be good enough to-reach-the-end? Or am-I destined for failure, fated to-have nothing left, am-I meant to pretend? Or-to die in-the attmept, headed-for disappointment or-success, maybe-I just need to-learn to-accept, I-reach-my hands up to-the sky and-praise my existence, I'm better then okay, I'm exquisite, life is profound, love is prolific,