A law of timeWho does decideon these rules by which we must abideOn the subject of timeWho did choosethat our youth we must looseand our skin grow old with timeWho was the one to set in placethese years in which aging has made us wish to erasea wish to make us young once moreWho puts these laws in orderwith which the line with young and old share a borderand crossing it be inevitableThough some of these laws may be unspokenWe must all agree that rules are meant to be broken
This is me.What do I see with these eyes? Can you see what I see through them? Behind these eyes is me. Me and my world. My world of whatever I wish to think of. Reality left behind, the sight of what's real covered by my wish for an endless dream. The world is what I want it to be. What I make it to be. The reality in front of me is immovable, still there but occasionally shrouded by my endless imagination and day dreams of other such things. A reality that can be covered momentarily, but not hidden entirely. Though still seeing this reality are my eyes and behind my eyes still lies myself. Me. Me, my eyes and the forever present reality. Since I cannot change reality, let me change the eyes which see reality.