We may be empty

We may be nothing more than flesh and blood and bone

Particles born from stars

Stardust and starlight

But doesn't that make us more precious?

Isn't dust that questions its own -ness something special?

We are such fragile beings, trying to make sense of this world

That does not work according to any rule

A world that neither wants to make us cry

Nor laugh

Because it only exists and that's all that it needs

We may be empty, hungry for a soul, a spirit, an essence to call ours

Something that would mean that we are snowflakes

But atoms are atoms and flesh is flesh

Either everything is special

Or nothing really is

We have done abominable bad

And glorious good

We hold feelings that no words can describe

Things that others can only see in our eyes

We are paradoxes, tragedies and love songs

Padlocks hidden behind closed doors

And forests that bathe in the dark

We are empty

Fragile little things.

China dolls.

And we want to love and be loved

More than anything else in the world

So maybe there is light in all of us

Not in a romantic way, of course

Or maybe we are all rotten inside

And just tell ourselves that to make it seem like there is some good

Within all of us

But does it matter?

We are empty

And that's why we try to make things

Seem full

But it's okay if it doesn't make sense

It's okay if in the end, it doesn't even matter

It's okay if we never know what life is meant to be

It was never meant to be solved.

because there has never been an answer

(We are all dead anyway)

(So just do your best, okay?)

_________

a/n 

whatever this poem is. i'm feeling existentially sentimental like I sometimes get. it's good