Sometimes We Don't Need Words. Rather, It's

Sometimes When I Think Of Life, I Feel Like A Piece Of Driftwood Washed Up On Shore.

There Has To Be Pain. That's The Rule.

All Of Us Are Imperfect Human Beings Living In An Imperfect World.

Instead Of Things I'm Good At, It Might Be Faster To List The Things I Can't Do. I Can't Cook Or Clean The House. My Room's A Mess, And I'm Always Losing Things. I Love Music, But I Can't Sing A Note. I'm Clumsy And Can Barely Sew A Stitch. My Sense Of Direction Is The Pits, And I Can't Tell Left From Right Half The Time. When I Get Angry, I Tend To Break Things. Plates And Pencils, Alarm Clocks. Later On I Regret It, But At The Time I Can't Help Myself. I Have No Money In The Bank. I'm Bashful For No Reason, And I Have Hardly Any Friends To Speak Of.

That's What The World Is , After All: An Endless Battle Of Contrasting Memories.