Chance
The worlds always crashing, then spinning, before falling,
And what's the chance any of this matters,
There's no matters, nothing to worry.
Because the roaring of every failure and silence of every request
Comes nowhere near the proud grin on your face
And compliments and smiles and tears and strength.
Maybe there was no purpose in life, to begin with,
Yet thank you for some purpose.
This poem is about:
Me
My community