We all know it will come again.
Still, wonder circles the brain.
When will it come again?
Just like an apple blossom.
We all know it will fruit by the dozen.
Still, either it be odd or even.
When will it ripen?
Just like a fall to the ground.
We all know it will hurt all around.
Still, not sure where help can be found.
When will it the sirens sound?
Just like what happen to Heath.
We all know it will be swift.
Still, just covered by a thin sheath.
When will we go six feet beneath?
Just like whatever else uncertain.
We all know that it will happen.
Still, hopping for hearts to be open.
When will hope fall into oblivion?
"Not sure whether this is an infatuation or something different altogether."