Author's notes: Trite? I don't know, perhaps. But whatever, these are my feelings, trite though they may be.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

All these things
that I've observed
mean nothing.

I am these things,
all that I hate,
I am.

The world, so vast and wide –
I mean nothing.
Just another meaningless existence
in this already meaningless life.

Nothing matters
because everyone has their own fucking story;
not enough ears to listen,
not enough words to soothe.