Why build a sandcastle,

If it always is sunken by the tides?

Why write a book,

If it is never published?

​

It may be fun in the moment,

But those moments always fade away.

Until there is nothing left,

But a fleeting memory.

Why make a piece of art,

If no one cares to see?

Why make a beautiful song,

If no one cares to hear?

​

It may be something to be proud of,

Yet, no one cares.

To everyone else,

It is but a fleeting memory.

​

Why talk to people,

If they never want to stay?

Why try to make friends,

If they always go away?

​

Life may be fun in the moment,

But those moments always fade away.

Until there is nothing left,

But a fleeting memory.

​

Why make the effort to care,

If nobody else does?

Why do anything at all,

If nobody would go looking?

​

No one is proud.

No one cares.

To everyone else,

I am but a fleeting memory.

​

And nothing more.