People say the future is fluid.
People say the future is always changing.
People say the future has hope.
People say my future is bright.
I say fuck what people say.
I say that the future has its course.
I say it doesn’t give a fuck to what we do.
I say it doesn’t care about hope.
I say the future isn’t bright, or dark.
My vision of the future is always changing.
It’s fluid, hopeless one second, hopeful the next.
It can be covered in light, or lost in the dark.
Does that mean the real future is the same?
No. Clearly it doesn’t, because sometimes,
Sometimes, like fate, the future is a bitch.
Sometimes it’s like everything is set in stone,
And you can’t help but be stuck in its cruel,
And unfortunate actions that pull you down
Until you're stuck gasping for air, drowning
Because no vision of the future could have
Ever thought to prepare you for the real thing.
Future and Fate are intertwined like lovers,
Screwing and screwing up all that you thought
You could be, because in their eyes, the visions
Of you and me don’t matter, only theirs are
Worth the light of day, unlike us, the worthless.
The ones not supposed to dream, the ones that were
Meant to be nothing but toys for their amusement.
But we’re human.
We do have dreams and visions, for what would it
Mean to be human without the company of Hope?
What would it mean to be living, if every time we
Closed our eyes, only darkness greeted us?
What would any of it matter if it was all for nothing?
None of it would.
So despite any ideas of the indiscriminate actions
Of the twisted coupling that is Future and Fate,
With Hope as your guide, dream and have visions
Of the future because there’s no telling if they just
Might come true.
