We live like we're immortal, BS smiles and breaking hearts.
We live, we die, we fall, we cry, and we constantly ask why...
What's the point in a purpose? Why do we love when we know that they'll hurt us?
Futility, it molds our very being. In a short existence, do we really make a difference?
The beauty of life, is that everything dies.
We live like we're immortal, and never stop to breathe, because within that second, we could cease to be.
I think we're terrified. I know I'm terrified, because everything that we see, will all cease to be.
No one has an answer, for the question of our lives. Do we even care? Or is it all a lie?
Cease to be, cease to breathe.
Cease to be, cease to breathe.
We live, we die, we fall, we cry, as we cease to be.
"You'll be fine" they say, "Here's some pills" and then they send you on your way. They don't really care, they profit on our pain. They laugh at our misery and play the devil's game.
No one asks why, and just go about their life, its just a question, as I'm questioning mine.
I've come to terms with the non existing of our futile existence.
YOU ARE READING
Dichotomy
ŞiirThe observant is always watching. Humanity is here and thriving, but our world won't be surviving our reign. Alive, but not noticed in living. Here we are. A new life, new words, a new start. Aug. 12th 2019 - June 18th 2021 Vol. 1
