Does Anything Have A Meaning Anymore
Does anything even have a meaning?
What are we fighting for here in this town?
What's changed in a year?
And why does it even bother?
Here I am; welcome to me
A semester behind schedule and skating by on strange ice
Am I actually skilled enough to deserve these grades
Or are my professors having mercy on my attempts?
Whizzing by on technicalities
And vomiting out talent when my heart stops holding me back
Am I going to survive in this capitalist wasteland?
Or die with the dregs forever reaching towards the sun?
Victorian castles shrouded in black against an amber sky
Surround a sleepy dirt road with turquoise trees by the wayside
In comfortable chairs with cast iron bars
Everyone I know and love sits enslaved by their brain's chemistry
No hope, no aspirations
As each slaves away for a slave's pay
How do I convince them to live
When I truly see no reason for them, or me, to do so?
Why fear an eternity of blankness?
More importantly, why fear it coming soon?
Compared to endless eons, billions of years
Why bother struggling for another sixty before it takes me anyway?
I've been dead longer than I've been alive
I'll be dead longer than I'll be alive
How am I to convince my friends to live
When I can't even convince myself?
So again I ask, shouting into the inky blackness of the night
Does anything have a meaning beyond what I attach to it?
Does the world truly end with me?
Because I'm a rather poor playwright for that kind of responsibility.
Copyright © Derek Chos | Year Posted 2017