Mad At Existence Poem by Hewitt E. Moore

Mad at existence
Why, I don't know
A perpetual persistence
To reap what I sow

With the question of life
Comes the answer of death
So much alike;
One has breath

Infinite is time,
Space and matter
Knowledge is benign
A thoughtful clatter

The herd of humanity
It's shepherd a butcher
Clone the insanity,
And ensure the future

Ideas aren't real
Outside of the box
Like touch without feel,
Or time without clocks

Race to the starting line
Finish dead last
No time to whine
The future has past

Mad at existence
Why? Now I know
Existence is the sickness
Within the status quo