what we make

people can write so many things
they can say random words
some makes us laugh
some makes us cry
most of the time people are unique
but in a way
there's a common denominator that classifies us as one
we make things unexpected to others
sometimes just a continuation of their work
everyone has their own medicine
and some just can't get enough of life's reality
this isn't the perfect poem
nor does it have a flow
it's just one of those we pass by and scan
we get our ideas
then we flip them and tweak them then make our own
there's no originality
for we live in a world where almost everything is cliche
almost everything have been used
may it be deep
or simply shallow words
we live by example
some live by their experience
others just wants another ear to listen to their stories
when we come across those who are better than us
it's either we make them our friends
or we put them up in the wall of seclusion
when we come across someone who inspires us
we tend to make them ours
well in fact you can never own anyone
not by heart nor in mind
for they are their own
neither can we be owned
we can talk about the blue sky
about the sweet sound of music
about life's tragedy's and success
more about those we don't know
and less about who we are
but more about who we want them to see
when we look at the distance
we will notice a blur image of us
not so soon do we realize that we reflect those who we hate
if we think too much
we forget to act
when we act as soon as possible
we forget to reflect
when we reflect too much
we neglect the fact
that it's too late
people speak of change, corruption and more
but as to what i see
people are corrupt in their very own manner
change is constant, though there's a glitch
inconsistency is existent
therefore making change a fad to some or maybe most of the things
people have been talking about change since i can remember
but somehow
through the process
we don't change, passing on to another generation
sometimes we do when we have to
but in it's very essence it's still us
just another side as they say
when people talk about life
i smile
people shouldn't be talking about life
they should live it
death, hence its meaning, is interesting
for there we transcend
and its complication is but another fact
a fact that cannot be avoided
for each and everyone of us has their deaths
not the transcendence wherein we fade within our earthly boundary
but the death of every human soul as we speak
the silence of each soul and mind is death itself
this is but another passage
not one of your daily poems
unorthodox to some
but a commonality to others
in here i rest
in here i lay down my final moments
til the day i write again
til the day i would find a purposeful topic
and til the day i find the meaning of my very inconsistent existence
for i am but another human
who dared question thy creation of such monstrosity
and another soul
who seeks for answers to undefined questions.