Blank Pages

Blank pages, they're a lot like the future
Anything can happen, nothing is set
You can do your best, yet be a failure
So the question remains, is it worth it?

You write your story with no eraser
The mistakes you make are put on paper
Everything you do will still be written
Your small mistakes are hardly forgotten

Satisfaction in life comes from meaning
But what is meaning? Nothing objective
And subjective? That's for you to ponder
Though, that can indeed be ineffective

In fact, is it not just a cruel game?
No matter what, you'll always end the same
Live and die, forgotten through the ages
In the end, all that's left are blank pages

Blank pages, they're a lot like the future
Anything can happen, nothing is set
You can do your best, yet be a failure
So the question remains, is it worth it?

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