What in the world would I compose in an empty stretch of electronic paper with an idle mind?
Would it be psychotic thoughts that run amock in my mind amidst my shallow shell?
Would I waste my so-called "golden time" to relate my happiness, misery, anger, or my superficial human exhausts?
Would I care if I was provoked by the entire society I seemingly not even a single care in the world I would ponder at?
Let me look for ways in which I could waste my time, waste my energy, waste anything left to be wasted.
I can't seem to find my place in the world, and that's my biggest problem, thank you very much. I always stare at nothing in particular, contemplating if I was a complete failure or whether i would emerge victorious.
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