Meaning.

Life is so pointless.

Meaningless.

Dead.

I Walk across this graveyard and look

down in shame at all who have lived,

all who have failed to find what we,

the human race are all looking for. Meaning.

I sit down carefully on the bench at the end of the path,

as I do I notice my joints who have bothered to wake up,

just to move my knee in order to help me move.

What makes me so important? Could it be meaning.

I search the clouds which rotate around the earth,

happily, across the sky; white fluffy visionaries

looking down on us as if we are nothing,

humming to the tweets of the birds that have no meaning.

Then parading around us without notice the sun.

Like God in the sky it shines on us, helping, maintaining.

Yet even he cannot say he has done enough.

He, the one we all look up to has failed to find meaning.

I stop there not because I am scared or bored, but because I have to.

If I keep going, I will fail to find meaning.