who knows for sure?
and i am here thinking about war.
four seasons that change with each passing gust
remind me of the birth of november filled with lust.
perhaps there is sanity in nocturnal comfort,
but who knows for sure?
and so it is futile to compare
that which is shallow to deep affections.
my heart is divided up into sections,
some broken, while others secure.
i may be a nuisence, but who knows for sure?
Who knows?? I think someone knows everything.
I think the only thing we know is that we know nothing.