What is it that makes one feel alive?
Is it the times they spend towards careless actions?
Or is it the love they feel from those around them?
The endless days of nine to five,
Or the realization that nothing stays the same?

Are you alive? Asked the man,
But how do I answer?
Do I say I’m dying as each day passes,
Can he read me like an open letter?

As everyday moves on,
I can’t help but wonder,
Why do we live for us to perish?
Is that all we are good for?

Are you feeling alright? Asked the man,
But how do I answer?
Do I tell him I’ve been sick everyday,
Or that I’ve never felt better?

What are we here for,
For a God’s entertainment pleasures?
Are we the main event, I wonder,
That he has been all but waiting for?

Can you hear me alright, Asked the man,
I think you might be fading.
I try to speak up and tell him ever so much,
That I was still breathing.