We're all looking for meaning,
in a fog made of rubber,
that makes it hard to see clearly,
makes us bounce off each other.
Sometimes we connect,
and then things make sense,
most times we reject,
and so we remain tense.
We don't know why we're here,
and yet we struggle to survive,
in life our greatest fear,
is not to be alive.
All I really know is this,
whilst here I want to be heard,
and have the world become a fist,
clutching my every word.
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