A sad, wicked word ‘Almost’
Hiding desires of quintessential future
Almost made it, almost got it,
Making me its slave, this Almost
Almost there yet still not there
Almost perfect yet not perfect
Clutching to the hopes of building reality from this Almost
Fighting every second to get that definite ending
Refusing to let go even though it’s dead end
A beautiful illusion Almost
To the life that could never be
To the love that seems unlikely
And yet I fall for that.
Well, who wouldn’t?
The world is your wishing well they like to believe
What if it’s just made of nothingness
So why wake up from the perfect dream
When there is uncertainty in certainty.