my flesh is crawling
with these bugs and sores
they constantly bite and burrow
reminding me how we slowly (and quickly!) die

there is no clear reason why we're here
we sit squirming in our sweat
itching to do more than time allows
hoping to last long enough to see
one small accomplishment through
a thing that even monotony cannot kill
and stands out from other attempts that fail
that every minute are displayed and swept away

we wonder if there will be something else
besides the daily "hello" and walk-on-by
so go on, comment and complain
demand from whomever you want
but you will never be granted more time
and you can make all the meaning that you want
but you may never really mean a thing

a drop in a large bucket
a grain of sand in an endlessly swelling sea
swirling around for eternity unnoticed
and finally cast on a shore
filled with other grains
equal, similar, plain
seemingly uniform in every way...

but its me!
its my life!
i want to matter!

you are the same as a million before and after
you will fade and fall
into your fellow grains
and be lost in this sea
over and over