Small Talk Poem by Old Teenage Poems

And isn't it scary, though
That about so many things
we pretend to be sure
Yet when asked the questions
that truly matter
we act as if those answers
we cannot fathom
- as if the human brain was
too narrow-minded
to contain itself
- as if it was a matter of
accepting ourselves
as too small or insignificant
to be able to make a change
yet worldly and experienced
enough to have all pointless
topics in our small-talk
conversation range

- when did we stop thinking?