Changes come
It's hard to adapt
We're told to be unique
But not to be diffrent
We're all looking for something
Some of us know
Others ravage through diffrent paths
Hoping to find their purpose
In all honesty
I don't think it can be found
We all act as if we're meant to be diffrent
Maybe we're meant to be the sheep
Led by a superior
Or maybe
We're meant to lead the masses
Maybe we're meant to be heard and shut down
Maybe we're just meant to be
Maybe we can choose our purpose
Maybe it's as love
I haven't found mine yet
Maybe it's this
Writing poems that don't even rhyme
Rambling on about some lost love
About a girl that's probably forgotten me
Im stuck in this pain
As corny and emo as it sounds
It's partly true
Some of it is self depreciation
And the other bit is lack of self worth
Maybe i don't know what im doing
Maybe that's my purpose
To ramble on about nonsense
That'll spark an idea for a true innovator
Im a small blade of a grass in a very big field
I'm far to common to be considered "unique"
But I've come to a redundant and short fetched conclusion
Maybe there's no reason we're here
Maybe it's true that
Poems don't have to rhyme
Hearts don't have to love
Brains don't have to think
Legs don't have to walk
Poets don't have to write
People don't even have to find a purpose
But somehow it's better if they do
Written on:18/08/2023
