I could say the world is ending tomorrow, and no one would care.
I could say the world will go forever, and no one would care.
I could write words, words, words of hope, of love, of humanity, of peace, of pain and the world will still spin to unchanged tomorrows.
The human heart balled up as a fist, just grows old clenching to life, to pride and ego, it won't let go.
But the words slip through, as the last pump of blood to a lost web of veins.