You are taken for granted.
You are neglected.
You are used.
You are regretted.People destroy you.
They ignore you
Hide you
Steal you.There is no way to get you back
Once you are lost.
And even if we could save you,
We will be eternally irretrievable as well.Time is of the essence, they say.
You are precious, they claim.
Yet you are tossed aside
Onto the train tracks
As if you were nothing.You are a downward spiral for most,
A curse for some,
And an extraneous solution to none.
You cannot be changed
Once the damage is done.Living you is cliché
And loving you is right,
But the right thing to do,
Is not always what should be done.
You are an obligation.
You are a burden.
You are all around,
But you are invisible.You cannot speak.
You have been silenced by
The chirping of birds,
The pulsing of hearts,
And the stepping of followers.You do not have our attention.
You are losing to
Right swipes,
Twitter fights,
And porn sites.
This generation is oblivious
Because that live stream is continuous.
Watching people post pictures
Of perfect parts
Of private parties
Where pretentious people
Present postures
Of pleasantness,
Popularity,
Prosperity,
And prominent pride.Now is that why we are here?
Is it our purpose to simply boast of the things we have?
What about the things we have done?
My friends, this game has yet to be won.
This letter is not addressed
To any person who is living,
But to life itself.