lanybug76
The day always ends
But I never do
I shuffle onward
To face the endless faces
The glares and stares
And the occasional empathy
But no one is ever asking the right questions
I never get a break from this weight
on my fatigued shoulders
Kurt Vonnegut once said that humans are the only creatures that speak of free will. We think that we have so much power over an infinite universe. In reality we aren't even sure if we have power over our own lives. Is will even real? Or are we predestined?