Credit goes to artist, I do not claim this piece.
I don’t really think anymore, nor do
I believe in half the things I say.
Do I miss?
Do I fear?
Do I love?
What does it mean to ‘miss’ when
one’s self is not missed at all?
What does it mean to ‘fear’ if one
does not fear themselves?
And what does it mean to ‘love’ when
never has one been loved before?
Improper and outdated,
These ideas are miscalculated,
Again and again I find myself alone
and hollow,
Perishable in the face of man yet
devoted throughout time and development.
What happens when the man who
understands nothing becomes nothing?
When the ‘fear’ becomes fear
Or the ‘love’ becomes love?
Where is one to go now?
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