In the grand scheme of things,
Titles
have no meaning,
No use, no importance beyond
mere formalities, decorations.
They are just a part of the banalities,
That we humans obsess over.
You ever get the feeling that even if you didn't exist,
Nothing would change,
Nobody would notice?
And as I grow older, wiser,
I stop feeling the need to share my dreams,
I instead present my thoughts folded inside out-
Quantities of and for each other,
Each existing independently and codependently of and on the other.
Love is transient,
As life is temporary,
And we feel the need to refute this,
By filling our lives with toys and meaningless nicknacks,
Like titles,
To prove that we exist,
That all of our sweat isn't for nothing.
We slave under the tutelage of disappointment,
Never learning, never accepting,
That none of it matters.
©May
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