No one would come to the funeral for Earth
Or for Sol or the whole Milky Way,
So insignificant in the grand scheme.
It's easy to think that our worth
Is really not much to say.

I feel so small
Because I don't really matter.
It's the undeniable truth,
That we are all
Only loose collections of matter.

And we are but part of part
Of part of part of part
Of the universe as a whole.
And if we died right now,
There'd be no one else to know.

Or if they did, someone somewhere,
With galactic cable or pay-per-view,
Our series finale would not impress.
They'd watch Earth fade without a care.
The credits would leave out the extras,
Me and You.

Do you remember -
no, of course you don’t.

Did you hear about -
never mind.

What are you -
no, sorry.

Why -
nope.

I -
sorry.*

…….
Did you say something?

If I'm being honest
I'm tired of being a poet.
I'm tired of findig meaning in everything from the lines of the sky to the cracks in the side walk
I'm tired of using extended metaphors to explain how overwhelmed or angry or sad I am 
I'm tired of immortalizing the people I love or hate in half assed lines of poetry
For once I would like a good day just to be a good day or a bad day just to be a bad day
A landscape to hold no higher meaning than to magnify the glory of existence
For the people I know to hold no cosmic significance in the fabric of time
I would like to sit and be quiet
To write and be at peace
For the storm to pass over
And to find some relief
This is not a game for me this is how I breathe and I am tired of having to hold meaning in every crack and every crevice
My poetic nature has become a menice in my tired skin
I'm tired of letting the light in
But this isn't something you quit
This is something you breathe
This is something you are
This is something you need
Even if it doesn't make sense all the time
This is the one true thing I know that's mine
My sense of rhythm and my sense of rhyme
And it isn't easy all the time
Because these days life moves faster than I've even known
Faster than I can process what I've been shown
These days it's easy to feel the weight of all of my time spent alone
My mind isn't home
I'm chilled to the bone
These days I'm tired of being tired and tired of writing about how tired I am
Like I'm six feet under but I'm not yet dead
Using poetic devices to say what's already been said
I'm tired of playing this game
Imortalizing name after name
I still feel the same
Even though I still keep writing
So what I'm trying to say is that I need poetry like I need water but sometimes if you drink too fast or you drink too deep you feel like you're drowning
Out to sea in familiar surroundings
It's astounding how tiring being a poet can be.

To be loved brings joy beyond measure
Though to love is the most precious treasure.
Which is why what all of us yearn to do
Is find the one we can give our heart to.
One whom to us is so precious and dear,
That we dare to love without any fear.
The one we love with all our heart and soul,
One whose love in return makes us feel whole.

Who amongst us is not
Shaped by our past some way?
Much of it best forgot,
Mistakes made on the way.
Though it taught us a lot
It's important to say:
What we were matters not,
But what we are today.