Nihilist

Our purpose is limited

When we spread it across the inked skies

And make ourselves known to all that will listen

Yet the stars do not speak back

For no sound is made in the universe

With every noise that surrounds you

It does not truly exist

It is not heard by those

Who are beyond what we see

Yet we speak to each other

Holding onto a constant chain

Of reassurance

That we are heard by something

For if an insect were to understand

What we had to say

We would still find satisfaction in ourselves

The truth to all of the sounds

That spread themselves to the atmosphere

The invisible barrier of our dreams

It will be more dėsɨrėd

If our words were to be important

If every conversation could cure cancer

If there were never a single breath to be wasted

Our knowledge could rise above the stars

That label our inabilities to reach beyond

Our miniature capabilities

Instead we use our words to execute our enemies

We use our words to create a different kind of silence

A silence that though will never be heard

It will always be known

And remembered.