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It Is What It Is
It was like that moment,
When you can’t believe,
The words printed on the book.
And you either have to re-read it,
Again and again to realise,
That it is what it is,
And not your imagination playing tricks.
Or you simply have to close the book,
Take a deep breath,
Walk around your room,
To believe,
That it is what it is,
That you read,
And not some printing mistake.
It was like that moment,
When you can’t believe,
That there could be a shortage of words,
To express the feeling,
Of either the hope of existence of magic,
Or understanding that it ends,
Somehow, in someway,
Unexpectedly hurting a lot more than required,
But it is what it is,
Like some plan of the universe.
