It doesn't quite fit in, does it?
*he asked and asked
he hoped and hoped
it'd snap into place like Tetris*
It isn't wrong
*he thought and thought
about the life he lived—
the late-night strolls
the late-to-bed, early-to-rise work
the tantrums over foes
the friends and the acquaintances
whom he wished would change labels
all with peculiar normality*
It had always been there
*he could find answers and answers
as he searched and searched, whys and hows
not a rock dropped without gravity
dust didn't come without wind
words were not spoken without reason
gestures weren't made without intentions
and it went on forever*
It doesn't feel right, does it?
*he asked and asked
he hoped and hoped
it wouldn't be Sisyphean, mechanical, or anhedonic.*