I've come to the realisation that our lives don't really matter
Each and every single life of ours is just another dot on a black paper
We scream and shout for intention
We shout "I am different! I exist!"
But to what end?
We slowly change without realising it
As if our subconscience is just trying to find any means possible to stand out
Till every single one of us is a different shade of grey than the other
7 billion grey dots on a black page
And still none of us stand out
We begin to fall in some state of limbo
Searching for broken dreams to cling on to
Or fantasies to day dream about
Its funny how they always ask young children the same old question
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Instead they should be asking
"Whats shade of unrecognizable grey do you want to be when you grow up?"
It wouldn't matter if i was erased would it ?
So go on God , take away what you gave me
Cause i clearly don't know how your black paper works and i chose to be white