My existence is futile
A convenience to make the numbers
Irrelevant and undeniably a void to fill the space
...
She sat their amongst the leaves
Pondering how the trees must grieve
How they must wallow amongst their pain
But become reborn with the summer rain
...
How can something so powerful, derive from so little?
A single thought, capable of such destruction.
Planted like a seed, it grows and consumes you.
A neurosis in your mind
...
Inconsequently A Number
My existence is futile
A convenience to make the numbers
Irrelevant and undeniably a void to fill the space
Aspiring to transpire
Settling in the form of dust
space
and time
Inconsequently, apparent
But entirely vacant
An inconvenient truth
hushed upon
as if
I could disrupt the sodality
Moulded so perfectly, into bliss
A sketch,
which forms the portrait
Although an entirely different image
To what appears
My complex aura
is discomforting
to the ones
who cower amongst shadows of insecurities
Unsettling,
As if I were to embrace the tangled notion
Evaporate like vapor
Lay amongst the realists
Im here,
merely as a number
to fill the void
of faceless faces