Whitney

The TV is blaring,
a spotlight glaring,
what's the news everyone is sharing?

Another outbreak?
More heartache?
Or did someone just bake,
a new kind of cheesecake?

If the news is bad,
I'm going to be sad.

Life: A perpetual maze inhabited by the human race.

Directions are personalized depending on who holds the map.
Only later does the realization come forth,
there is no proper map.
Life the maze, mutates with a rigorous passion,

Your frigid fragile fingers
have been torn from my grasp.
I knew this had to happen
but without you I am left incomplete.
Jokes have lost their humor.
Memories have clouded over.
What changed?
Will you ever tell me the truth?