These days are not just a number, not just a life cycle that everybody refuses to change. Instead they are recycled, followed by a continuance of the same routine, though its a different day. Living life without a purpose, living it just because its possible. Just because your told to be alive, doesn’t mean your actually living. Doesn’t mean your existing, it doesn’t mean that your counted. It is a slow and silent process turning and converting the non existing into numbers.
Not a person nor a soul, not a human nor a creature. Even though God created you it doesn’t make you a feature, in this here world, in this here planet surrounded by animals and beasts. Covered by diseases and pest, made up of non-thankful selfish and ignorant ogres that dirty up and stink the entire nature of the meaningful earth. Yet here we all are, counting the days and living each day as if we were permanent and non erasable. Instead of light feathers that can be blown away by a slight and cold breeze.