To Ponder My Existence

To ponder my existence

Wondering if I’m a fraud

Other people do the same thing I do

And my hard work gets unnoticed by the many who don’t get why I work on such useless stuff

To ponder my existence

Wondering if I’m accepted

Other people are more manlier than I

And my own self feels more strange and unorthodox

To ponder my existence

Wondering if I’m doing enough

Other people take more initiative to speak out

And my own thoughts get left in the dark

To ponder my existence

Wondering if I’m wasting my own time

Other people have stuff put out

And this poem is all I give out to the world

Where my existence lies in only a few words

Where my existence is usurped by people more cruller and machievellian than I am

Where my existence is unappreciated and forgotten

Where my existence is a blip in the verse of life

Where my existence is forgotten by all and my own ghost scattered to abyss

Where my existence is tortured by a world so unforgiving

So why do I keep living?

So why do I keep dreaming?

So why do I keep working?

So why do I keep writing?

Where my own work can be all replaced by a machine so unfeeling, never given a chance at life

Where my own self is nothing but a liability to those who claim superior when it feels like they’re aren’t

And I, the one pondering their own existence, still believe in them while they tear my life in front of my eyes, treating like my feelings are rubbish and that I should suck it up, wilt, and die?