the middle

This is a poem from a kid no heart just a black void from finish to start because I only see things backwards my mind is a constant I rewind of failures And it’s because I have no heart, Heart that is the drive that moves us forward and seems to open every figurative door. And yet I have none I have no real plan for my life and I seem to just exist. I don’t feel like the main character in my own story. So will I never achieve fame and glory? And will those like me become a never ending story. And isn’t it ironic that my greatest fear is dying a spec. Not even heard by an elephant, a speck that was wiped away without a second thought never to be remembering not even someone society tried to forget I would ask Shakespeare himself if the entire world is stage and all the men and women are simply players then could I be the one who was meant to watch it all. To sit in the crowd and laugh and cry just a critic with no bias no real opinion and never had one from the start or was it the finish I guess to understand the beginning you have to see the end. Because the curtains are closed but I don’t know if the play about to start or if they’ll stayed closed forever. So I hope you understood my poem because this is the end or the beginning I can never really tell anyway so let’s just call it the middle.