I’ve not done all that I said I would;
Ask me what, and I’ve forgotten,
As if the importance of conscience
And meaning were given away
In place of simple existence,
Our greatest excuse.
We were engineered to fall a step short,
Not that this is always the case,
But in some small way it’s true.
We will fall short, always and forever, yet
In the interim there’s a fighting chance to
Stay on our feet, to walk another step, to live;
The last of them, that is, to live,
Is the most deceiving and profound,
For many walk endless miles without once seeing life,
While others, never to step a foot away, live
Greater lifetimes than us all.
So, it is to say, that the true matter is in living.
I write knowing of the careless, uninterested
Characteristics of humanity, so the real question
Remains: Whose definition of living truly counts?
I know I will receive little more
Than a passing glance or the click of a mouse,
And I can that as easily for tomorrow as I can
For today, but sincerely I consider
That no one is to judge me honestly but myself.
Of course, I am no outlier for this sense of neglect
Is the colloquial existence we all share.
It’s true: I haven’t done all that I said, and
By this point you may think I’m dramatic,
But who are you to judge;
All I can say is that I’ve found newfound respect
For the saying “live like no one is watching,”
Chances are, they aren’t.
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