Empty book

I hurry through the empty pages
Looking at the many faces
What have I done with my life.
I feel as though it's been reaped by a scythe

My heart reaps what it has sow
If only I could've known
The pages would be thrown far below
What I reap is what I'll sow

Many years I've never known
What the pages could have hold
I left it there without a word
Never will this ever be heard
Because inside I know is all absurd

 what I reap Is what i'll sow
And all those pages will never be shown.

I have reaped what I had sowed...

Burning all the faces and the past that I've known.

PrObLeMs

Sometimes....I catch myself pondering about life's mysteries for hours on end. Like as if i was obsessed with these small issues that made their way into my head to seem larger than they are. I ponder them as if I cant except them. So i have to think about it over and over until I'm able to process it (i guess.). Or maybe I think that if i think about it so much the issue will just evaporate like boiled water on it's own, but knowing life (:O )  how totally predictable (*sarcasm) that is close to impossible.