Significance

When do we finally realize that we are significant?

We ask ourselves what’s the point of life?

And it’s like a burden; we’re burned out thinking through strifes

A challenging recourse and I swear I’m fallen aback,

I’ve got bills to pay, my children today, and I think hope is falling through the cracks, and I ask myself what’s the point of life? Like it holds me down and I can’t breathe, and I hold my house down under 6 marshals and 2 government liens,

And even if things were better,

And I never meant to take any road that I wasn’t meant for,

And I was a child meant to conform and unclench my fists,

To not fight the system, told to stand in line, just like this.

And I believed myself to be set free,

When I turned 18, they told me I could leave,

And with every new place I lost a year of my life,

And now I have nothing but excuses and wounds, And there’s nothing I feel I can condemn you for, there’s no hurry to think I’ll fall apart and lose,

I want you to value your oaths.

We’re a self-condemning set of selves, aren’t we?

Such the greatest sound is the one of love,

And none of these points meet me, to shove me,

push me further to understanding, I’m lost within the friction of life, a complete contradictory experience from what my father told me was “To understand me” and to tell others to understand me.

And the words I vouch for you are something like a poetic bail,

For a sentence you merely served was living to fail.

What’s the point of life is nothing is significant?

We want to live peacefully,

and can never find meaning, and it’s like a foregone conclusion, just buried away with the time capsules and pictures and memories, and all of it, will fade away into the dirt like our souls pushed into the ground like a child who’s face gets pushed into the ground like it hurts.

Yeah, it hurts.

It hurts and then it moves on, like the existence of one who believes themselves to be insignificant.

Improper textures arrive at incomplete artworks, and those who can’t feel the frame work get left out of the bigger picture,

That what we have is something special, something unique,

So hear the voices of those that speak, and one voice is merely you.

You claim that life is hard and confusing, and it’s those journeys you take to learn something about yourself what it makes beautiful.

The trials of life are what you must pass in order to find out if it was all worth it,

and whatever failures you have, as well as successes, you must be grateful.

If we’re all meant to be just pieces of dirt in the ground, then yes, you will become insignificant.

But it’s the moment where you take your existence and make it a wondrous attribute and people will attribute their love to you.

When one imparts thoughts and stops chasing ghosts,

When they feel what’s truly broken in this world.

And you’ll hold her in your arms, and he’ll smile back at you,

You’ll live two sides of a coin that makes a soul truly priceless.

A currency like life isn’t traded, bought or sold.

It is earned through a mile in the cold.

It is broken into and molded.

It is you, who needs no other. It is you who is with everyone.

And when you hear that you’ve become “someone”.

And these things stop being terrifying,

You will finally strive,

And live the meaning of life.