Insignificant

Crap

Bumps on my arms form in an array,in the most ominous way.

"What is this?' Says my consciousness.

The events we experience, the feelings we have felt, and the people we have come to love :

These intimate things are insignificant in the wider scheme of things, ....right?

So I cry, for what?

So I ponder, and for?

And I feel like I'm going to explode with these overwhelming feelings, but do they even truly matter?

Everything is mystery in this life that everyone seems to have an answer for, but why?

Everyone wants to mean something to somebody else when those other somebody's mean nothing as well.

Right?

So many questions with no true answers, Like each and every life with no meaning.

So is creativity our enemy?

Is imagination humanities Tyrant? 

Because these things only make insignificance more insignificant, and depression more depressing.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems, I'm stupid.

Reviews

[DJ]

You are not stupid, I like the words you used in this. It is well written and makes the mind wander questioning all that arose during reading this piece. I really like it :)

[Bridgett]

Aw, thank you. :)