You wouldn't say it's hard. Nor that it's easy. Just that it is. There. Humming under your skin. A lugubrious drum beat without an end. Spiders and their many webs. Toiling in the corners of our deception.
The birds on the grass. The worms in their beaks. You wouldn't say its wrong. Nor that it's right. Just that it is.
The girl. The window caressing her cheek. As she looks for an opening in the glass. The moon not penetrating. The sun just as weak. But the darkness. Oh the darkness. It always finds a way in.
She can't say it's wrong. Nor that it's right. She can only say is that it is.