Life means nothing
So there’s nothing.
Yet everything knows there should be something.
If there is no winner, why play the game?
Because it’s fun.
If life has no meaning, then why live?
But it’s nothing.
I can fight and win nothing.
Through all the tears, the pain shapes who I’m becoming.
But I’m still loving,
I’m still hunting,
I’m still something?
But it’s always meant nothing.
To you I was something?
To all the peasants he was something!
To all the knights who fought for his rough things,
Even for the ones in jail,
The queen impacted something.
And now it’s coming,
Coming, coming, coming.
The end is coming and I’m not ready to die.
But if life never meant anything to me before, why does it now?
Why shall it mean something when before it meant nothing?
Because now I’m dying and I missed loving,
Through all my judging, cussing, and hunting.
Looking for something, something, something.
But finding nothing, nothing, nothing.
And now I have to leave and walk away with nothing,
When I really did have something I just couldn’t see
So now I’m sad because everything is now something,
And it’s too late anyway,
So I missed all the sunshine waiting for the storm,
Only to find nothing.
It’s all so loving
I must return to nothing.
For I missed the few years where I got to be something,
Trying to find a meaning within a life that means nothing.
I have so many missing assignments in school. Mental breakdown ensues, but that’s ok because I have soup in the fridge. Mmmmm.
Next day, Band is awful, I screwed up my parts and ruined my music. It’s alright, I have some leftover soup waiting for me in the fridge once I get home. Mmmmmm, soup.
I wake up the next day, greeting my mother in the kitchen while I whip up some cereal - wait, could that be considered soup? Oh well. Mother smiles at me.
“I went shopping last night because we were out of milk and decided to get that soup you like.”
I am grateful. Soup is good. Especially with bread. Mmmmm, soup.
Later that same night, I throw some soup in the microwave and slice off a piece of bread to dip in the soup. I spread butter on it to make the flavour even smoother. Mmmmm, soup is good.
Everyday is soup. What is life? Soup? It’s a loop. Every day I look in the fridge to see more soup. I eat it, and there’s even more. I’m going insane, it’s a soup loop. The letters in soup are looking foreign to me. I eat this, every day, and I will continue to eat it for the rest of my miserable life. Soup is good. Soup is good. Soup, soup, soup. Soup. Broccoli cheese, french onion, it changes every day. Soup is versatile. Is cereal a soup? With a milk base and the main cereal accents, I think cereal is a soup. Another part of my miserable soup diet. I wake up and eat soup. I pull out a thermos at lunch and eat alphabet soup. I heat some soup up in the microwave for dinner. Soup. Life is soup, soup is all I need. Soup.
Take a beat.
Take a breather
the seat on your left
Long forgotten memories
the indentations brought by
Time and patience,
all prologue the quiet tells you
It's louder than anything in this room
The hum of the radiator and
The ever silent snow outside.