Trecherous Life

Life is so utterly bleak, a Reason for existence, can’t Be found through hours Of treacherous thought. Mind and soul, ache deep Within this hollow shell, Feeling no desires, no reason To exist within this life. To understand our worth, Is to be humbled, going Slowly down the sad path Awaiting the cold dirt. There are no promises, of An afterlife, only assumptions, Of a savior we are to blindly Follow, hoping for the best. Or a divine providence, of Some other man who claims That we will live once again Free of pain, in another life. Our existence is for nothing. When we die, only our name Exists within the lifetime of those We had known, until they pass. Do you know the name of one Person who died of hunger, within Africa, or the sick child who passed Away in the hospital last night. Did you even know that they Existed? Did you care, more Than the basic human care we Hold for random strangers. Explain, to me if you can, what Life is worth. What it will come To in the end, and why should We breathe so that we may Die only to have never existedPlease, do tell me... Written April 10th, 2002 © on Apr 09 2002 11:24 PM PST   0 • 1