Existence is a strange thing.
None of us are quite sure
What anything is,
Who any of us are,
Why any of it matters,
So we have breakdowns
With fancy names
To explain our crises,
But in the end we're all lost,
Confused and searching for an answer,
Only to find we can't comprehend
The truths of existence.
Existence becomes perception,
A distorted look at reality,
And anxiety becomes my lens,
So I can't see you anymore.
How can I know you're here
If I can't see anything?
How can I know you're alive
If I can't even find a shadow,
A trace of your existence?
Existence is simply existing,
Whatever that's supposed to mean.
Existence is being alive,
Even if you're not really "living."
Existence is what you make it,
So really it's nothing at all,
Unless you decide that it is.
I suppose that makes it all relative...
I guess you can decide.
What is your existence?
YOU ARE READING
Random Thoughts
PoetryThis is kind of just my brain and random thoughts I feel like sharing with someone in the middle of the night. Don't take any of it for more than it is because I'm always fine. Also, please don't judge the whole book by the first few poems. I promis...
