What am I?
What is my purpose?
I do not want to simply exist. Please, tell me there is a reason. 
I cannot stand the idea, that I was simply created with no reason. 
I cannot give one to myself. I have tried; it crumbles to dust eventually. 
Yet, if I am so neverending, why, then, am I?
Am I? Am I what I have been told I am?
Are we not just slaves to the wills of the many around us?
Do they not shape us? But I am formless. Meaningless. For I cannot give myself meaning; it is too often that it changes. 
We define ourselves this way. 
What am I supposed to do?
What am I? 



-written by Naib D.