Constructing A Plan

it seems so strange to me.
everything happens for a reason
everything happens, expectantly.
you never know
when to watch your back..
its strange how..
temptation leads to inspiration which results in false representation.
its strange.
how I have nothing else to comfort me,
nothing else. but pen and paper.
when words fail,
I can only seem to write
a letter
and this habit of mine isn't getting any better, its progressing.
im beginning to think more about it..
they say count your blessings
because tomorrow is not promised,
and many things are left unaccomplished.