A figure in the dark, in the eternal shadow of my own mind.
A memory to my past, a mystery to my future.
Drifting through the days like livestock in a slaughterhouse, seeing the end coming from the beginning with no chance to enjoy the now.
Who cares?
Everyone... But not about this dead soul, about the things that really matter, the life of ones self.
It is no surprise, the life of one is insignificant compared to the greatness of others.
That which does not affect our own sense of importance is cast aside, left for the dogs and the flies.
The biggest crime of all is to not exist, to misuse your one free gift in this world.
But what matter is crime if in the end nothing matters.
No comments:
Post a Comment