Why are masked men complex.
And those with a face so simple.
Why are the young enlightened,
And the old weary.
Are we pons in a lost game?
At the expense of an arbitrary universe?
Is time really here?
Or are we organized with nothingness.

What am I, and who are you meant to be?
Is anything meaningful....
Does everything have a purpose?
Are we the beaten and the ******?
Or the other's savior.
Will there ever be answer?
Or just a question to quiet our minds?