there is not a meaning to life. enough said.
we are atoms put together by science.
and science put together by a state of mind.
we happened upon a slim, slim chance.
we aren't meant to do some marvelous task, set to us by an all powerful being.
we are just something made up of everything meant to do nothing.
[r.k.]
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head mess | poetry
Puisiin which i believe i fall into, through, and out of love. dedicated to the butterfly who trapped me before i could trap it. [volume i] [poetry and prose] [2016-2017]
