It feels tragic –
The way we push forward
When feeling empty,
Feeling nothing,
Except what hurts –
The way we ignore
That sense of knowing
That it’s all so
Utterly
Pointless.
The way we continue dancing,
on the verge of tears,
Hoping one day we’ll forget
That nothing actually matters.
We pretend
That we matter.
We do the right thing
So that something matters.
Because to someone else, things do seem to matter.
So as long as we make things better-
For those that things matter to,
For those who also feel pain
But may have a shot
At feeling something else,
Then we are relevant,
We have some reason to exist,
Even if it doesn’t matter
For us.
At least it matters to them,
At least they can feel the effects of our efforts, of the idea of a “better” world, even if in the most minuscule of ways, which is probably the state of everything…
At least we’re doing something.
I guess that’s all that matters.
