Nothing
In the outlook of the whole world, I am a simple nothing.
My voice will never be heard by millions of people, or seen by billions. I can be nothing in peace, or something in riot, something earning a spot in change by force. It's easy to forget where you stand in life. Maybe you're caught up in your own mind, drowning in your thoughts, burying yourself in music and books like me. Maybe you have a name. Maybe you have a voice. But in the end, our graves are all the same size.
Do your lungs work? Does your heart pump? Are your legs carrying you through the world? Have you screamed out in your head, begging to be taken from the oblivion within the world?
Or are you silent?
Your eyelashes kiss your pale cheeks when you cry.
I am loud, but now, I don't feel the need to laugh or cry or yell or talk. I am typing. This is where my words are, this is where my heart is beating.
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