Here we are, day in and day out,
searching for meaning, filling with doubt.
We write and we write, to make something worth reading,
when really a trash can is what we are needing.
Don't know about you, but I fear being forgotten.
Long after we're dead and our bones are all rotten.
So I write and I fight with my negative side,
and try to just enjoy the ride.
Socrates said an unexamined life is not worth living.
To this I agree, with not one misgiving.
But Socrates never wrote a single word.
So maybe my tactics are a little bit absurd.
But then again, neither did Jesus.