We look for meaning in many things,
Hope for something that life might bring.
But poetry's just a bunch of words,
And love is just a feeling.
Everyday we wake up, a world within a world,
Hoping we'll find more meaning in a verb.
But words are just imaginings,
And feelings are just a symphony of thoughts.
We drink, laugh, have a good time, or at least try,
But in the end two words matter; Good bye.
And imaginings are just the product of a mind,
And thoughts are just a whim gone wild.
Existence, a facade we do our best to forget,
But all it ever means is that we live with regret.
And a mind is just a piece of meat.
And a whim is something we'll never get.
Mathew Lewis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-mind-is-just-a-piece-of-meat/
