Few words really mean anything even when there's a lot to say.
My mind doesn't only experience words in a single thought.
It all comes down to sounds and images.
And some of those sounds come out as words to describe ideas.
It seems my imagination is more active than I am anymore.
Dreams mean more to me than my own words.
I'm just creating garbage that takes up memory which occupies some kind of space.
Maybe some of my words can be someone else's gold.
All I know is I don't know anything, I just experience it to create a purpose.
I suppose if my words had more purpose, they'd be more meaningful and I; more predictable.
The only change is the collaboration of ideas.
thoughts that could have been put into words.
words put into action.
actions that could have changed the world.
the world that keeps spinning.
Do our lives mean anything to anyone other than our own kind?
What we really depend on doesn't really depend on us.
So what are we really doing here?
We have changed the world in more ways than one and that is about how much worse it has made the world.
We have made more ways to **** than anything else.
But then again it is death that makes room for more life on the surface.
Everyone deserves a chance to make one great mistake to change everything.
In the end doing nothing is as harmful as doing something so either way we're all going to die anyway.
Words don't have to tell you to see it this way.
Personal experience will bring us somewhere and show us something.
We still have a different point of view so what we see won't be the same thing.
What good are words then?