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Don’t ask the sleeping people

How do you breathe?

How do you put your clothes on?

How do you go on and on?



What is there to do?

Nothing and nothing.



You go on with your life

as if death isn’t in the surroundings

as if flowers aren’t being crushed

every day.



You stare at screens

and read some books.

Nothing and nothing.



It doesn’t mean anything,

decorate your life as you want.



It’s always nothing returning to nothing.


[center]My heart's being filled with an [i][u]enormous void[/u][/i] since read the poem.[/center]


[image]
ravenwind43 · 51-55, F
I understand this. ((Hug))

 
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