Leon's Poem

Everything is manufactured,
Life has become a satire for emptyness,
A series of fabricated events that repeat,
From one person to the next.

Nothing is original,
Nothing will ever be original,
Except maybe the person reading this,
Maybe it doesn’t matter that much.
I don’t know, I don’t know.

I might be lying to myself,
It might be fabricated lying,
Something made in a factory,
The factory that makes me feelings.

Im tired, no exhausted,
I need to get away,
Go on a fabricated adventure,
One that makes me feel better.

So What if its fabricated?
What does that matter?
So life is a satire,
Some find solace in emptiness.

In other words,
I am ruled by what is general,
By what is held to be true,
What is fabricated.

But that doesn’t matter
Because I don’t care.