Reviled Inanity

When I sit alone in my bower, And the mortal coil is slumbering, I do feel the gravitas of my adrift life, And in my head, These questions dwell in my mind, What is the purpose of my life? Am I to chase clout, hurt, earn, eat? Am I just a figurine on Mother Earth? Am I just to fill in the place? Am I just to be a brainrot child? Am I just to be a spurned child? Will I exist for eternity? Will someone ever understand me? Will I be lovable enough to love? The people we love, won't be there one day, And we will go to their graves, to comprehend the reality, The truth we feared to speak, Is now shouted in broad daylight, Am I just a person? Who can bear this human condition, of being lonely despite not being lonely, Looking at the worldly desires that once tempted me so much, All I feel is how thrilling and temporary they were, All I love is, Writing poems. Can someone tell me, they also feel, This dreadful gravitas.