Billions,
of years,
exist tomorrow.
Which,
human shall be here,
to witness,
such?
For,
these self important beings,
act as if.
Everything they do,
truly exist.
As if,
such is truly,
real.
I've,
wondered,
the wholeness of my existence.
Of,
this silly,
self importance.
For,
genius I've been,
called.
But,
death comes for us,
all.
So,
in truth,
how could such,
matter at,
all?
Why,
be I,
a being,
tethered to greed?
Why,
be me,
seeking fame?
Anything?
Why,
simply be,
this external entity?
Be there,
no genius.
No,
being deemed,
African,
american.
No,
entity simply seeking to,
breathe.
Be there,
only,
a second,
that will truly,
never be...
©yungb123
Y