How strange is it
That we exist at all
A random collodion,
Collection of attributes,
Reminiscing and the dance of stardust at just the right time
To make you and I on this floating rock.
How weird is it that out of these many million years,
We somehow exist at the same time
Out of all these chances,
And in this game of poker, I fold my cards.
Is it a coincidence?
Or something more?
A sick joke?
Or a foolish adolescence telling you it's fate
But it's just fate in your head.
But just the thought makes me wonder
What if?
What if we try?
Cause it's so strange to be anything at all.
YOU ARE READING
I'm So Exhausted
Poetry#1 in poem #1 in poetrycollection #1 in vent #2 in memory this is just a compilation of my vent poetry-ish (that i can find) from 4th grade to whenever i stop this (I'm 18 now) Im not the best with words but i write in spouts of thoughts
