Is human life meaningless?
We spend lifetimes attempting to figure out whom is leading us.
We are scrambles of atoms,
particles of an illusion,
creatures yearning for an unclear solution.
Our existence is only a simple hypothesis.
Our purpose is a made up confidence.
We are simply here to multiply;
Yet, we can’t help but glorify.
Our truth is blatant,
But we hesitate to claim it.
We keep reaching for more.
It’s never enough.
It’s never enough.
It’s never enough.
We work.
We work.
And we work.
But as we fail to climb to the top,
Who will be the one to notice the pawn drop?
Abby Hill Writings 