And sometimes the world smiles at you through its halcyon eyes, and everything seems perfect. The efflorescence of nature around you, the clouds, the birds, the trees. The wind sings its mellifluous songs to you. Everything is perfect. Except it's not.

And then somewhere a baby cries. Its mother just died. His father has fled. Then the sky grows darker as clouds roll in. The wind howls its song, but it's no longer gentle. It screeches and screams and pierces your eardrums a thousand times. Everything turns grey. The light that was once there is now gone. The nature around you, the clouds, the birds, the trees. Everything starts wilting.

Look around you, look around you, don't you see?

Everything's not perfect.

Everything is a f***ing mess.