Sometimes

Sometimes it is hard.
Long going as if things should come to an end.
A want of an end, to get an end, maybe be an end.
As if we forget the good times in the bad times.
A taste of badness takes away all the goodness in our mouths.

Sometimes we don’t get what we want.
As we please, things being the way we don’t like them to be.
Won’t like.
Who owed us that?
We’re not that privileged.
No one is.

Sometimes we get broken.
Broken by love, what we thought was love.
What is love?
There are so many making a harlot out of this word.
We’re not living in a fantasy.
Things fall apart.

Sometimes all we need is I.
I and me for myself.
But I can’t carry the world.
But still, not all hands will, would, or would want to help.
Wisdom and luck are key.