Nothing really matters.
What we do, what we say.
In the end, death is inevitable.
And even if we make names for ourselves, who will remember when the earth is no more?
Who will remember when the stars are no more?
Will any of our actions, no matter how big, end in anything but death?
No matter what we do, or say, we are not important.
We may be important for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, but will anyone be important if there is nobody for things to be important to?
Is anything we do but something to distract and occupy us from the inevitable death of the world?
Of us?
How can we live just to die?
Does any amount of wealth matter, if nobody is alive to utilize it?
Does music really matter, if nobody is alive to hear it?
No.
Because nothing really matters.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThese are the poems that I have been saving in my notes for about a year, they range from fiction to reality, to a fair mix of both. Ive never been able to make poems that rhyme, so if you dislike poems that dont have a rhyming scheme, then please d...
