As I lay awake
daydreaming for dreaming's sake
I wonder what's to become of me
Is my purpose out there? Was I meant to be?

From what I've seen,
I fill a void that's never been
I am myself, but it means nothing
Not one person knows who I am

Not even myself.

Can one shadow distinguish its shape
in a crowd of shadows?
What defines it, makes it unique
if so many like it are all around?

I am a person.
Because I am a person, I exist.
Breathing, seeing, feeling, hearing
I exist.

But is that enough?

Does the existence of an individual
make a difference in the world
if their lifespan
is barely a blink in all of time?

That is a secret we'll only find when the sting of death settles in and deteriorates our mind...