Friday

Existential Angst

 Back in the day we were formed from the clay

Now we've formed clay into the way of today

There is a WOW of now and I understand how

But I wonder why? and look to the sky

Is this something we should?

Is this bad? Is this good?

Is there more to this substance than the matters I sense?

Because there's a hole in my soul crying what is my role

And dents in the fence of what my life's meant

Am I unique?

Or a modern dazed sheep  a woke and asleep

Going along with both right and wrong

Which is wrestling a brain for the prize to be sane

And why do these questions come again and again?

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