Maybe purpose is a lie
We just born and die
Maybe we are trees
See every second pass by
Maybe we don't want ailment of ambitions
But mere existence could be a cure
Maybe happiness is borrowed from lands of neutrality
Where repayment is agony
Maybe tomorrow is another world
And yesterday a previous life
Maybe our pockets need kindness instead of paper
So we can finally afford peace
Maybe we need loyalty of our own
Instead of begging others
Maybe we need 'enough' of 'more'
To be content...