Today, I turned, 
Faced reality, and said: 
"I don't like you very much" --  
A comment which was met with
Resounding indifference.

Life is change, 
Change is chaos, 
And order is the illusion: 
One we cling to like 
A tree root on a cliffside. 

I cannot make sense of it all, 
Or any of it, really: 
Life seems like doodling, 
Random scribbles on a page 
Where the activity itself is 
More important that the meaning.

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