What's The Point?
Craggy digits deftly scribble
Scrambled thoughts
Like snowfall on an unwilling canvas
Each unique - a crystalline flake
A random one, a memory, a pain.
Some things to remiss,
Yet forcefully pervasive.
Some wistful vain recollections.
Scattered shards, guilty
Hope? Faint. Unwilled, unwilling.
Lost faith
Life dotted with streaks of gray,
And darkness,
Uncontrolled.
And unexpected
Reminisce a wistful youth
An innocent time, lost.
An unwilling participant in this wheel
Conceived. Yes. Not willingly.
Headed towards an inevitable end
No control and no choice
In face, in genes, in race, in place,
Just a human-hopefully,
What was, what is, what will be
It always has been
It’s all the same,
Nothing new, nothing changes,
Exhausting..
what’s the point?
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