This is child’s play indeed. Realization of wants, hopes, and dreams. Good intentions tangled with vines, thorns, and weeds. Racing through a thicket that blinds, rakes, bleeds. Anxious in our slumber, we moan, beg, and plead. The cart’s before the horse but the eyes don’t perceive. Monster in the flesh that the mind won’t believe. And few among us left with the courage to come clean. I know the sigh of subsisting without the means. Aim that’s off the mark when you drifted by mere degrees. The hunt for explanations and answers we all need. I’ve come to find the truth is much stranger than what it seems.