Exist-Essential Crisis

In the greatest strings of logic, and the most concise and thought out stretches of time, where do I stand?


Four, five, six, three,

When I die, are bones all that are left of me?


Five, six, three, four,

Am I dissolving flesh at the core?



I’m like twelve, what do I know about what it feels to be alive?

If all my questions were answered, would I not just question the source?

Does the human life have a predestined course?


Three, four, five, six,

 Whose problems am I trying to fix?


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