What Does It Mean?
A Poem

What does it mean, To exist, What does it mean, To live.
What is the purpose, Of a man, That is born, And then is borne by this Earth.
What is the goal, For anybody, Who comes into, This life.
All goals no matter, What will be one day, Complete themselves, Of the consequence of their own creation.
Then what remains, Is an existence of, Emptiness, The looming feeling of nothingness.
Then again we find something, Again to get us going, And again and again, And again.
Until we mottle into, Measly bags of flesh, And bones ready, For death to slaughter.
The nature of the man, Is to accept the reality, To accept the causality, And to accept everything.
Pain is the only real thing, Even if you believe, It is not there, It will come to you.
One day, One fine day, No matter where you, Run and ruminate.
Pain is the only peril, That rescues a man, From peril of his own, Thoughts dragging him to reality.
Pain is the one real, Truth that tells itself, Expressively and decisively, Enough upon the humans.
Dictionary may define, The pain, But the dictionary falling, On your feet will truly define it.
Pain promises respite, Despite being a living hell, Life promises leisure, Despite being a Sisyphean effort.
Purify the pain, Into strength and, Mental fortitude for, Yourself and reign your existence.






