Drifting

I drift from this life to the next

Floating from one wave to the next

No drive

No expectations

No real modivation

Just flouting 

Bobing 

Waiting 

Drifting 

I am a bottle

I have no special message

I have no special purpose 

Drifting in the current without meaning 

Someday I may wash up on shore 

Maybe I could be recycled

Turning into something beautiful

Or maybe I'll be thrown away with the other trash

But until then I will drift

With the simple acheivment of existing 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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