The Scribbles On The Wall

I have just taken this for granted,
those words must mean something to someone
who drew those words on the wall,
It looks like just rubbish done by a mad man,
a misunderstood one. Those words must mean something!
To someone with existential crisis it must mean something
He will cease to exist but those words will be there and
if someone take care of those words
it mean it will last more decades. Those words written
on the papers with poignant words of hopeless and
desperation This man must needed help,
but I choose misundestanding I didn't think twice I didn't think wise.
I have lacked in empathy, because I myself need
self-empathy, because this world is truly cruel
I need this hard solitary shell to protect myself,
as I wall myself with egoistic fortress and I could not see
if someone is outside needed my help, I forgot my old man,
I forgot my old man was literaly old.
Now he's gone, and those written materials became the
footprint of his existence. I say no more words about it
because it hurts.
Now I see more, I know more
I realized more things than before
and I felt sadder than before
I have this thousands of guilts of regrets
I don't know how to ease the pains.
Those scribble seems you want to know someone in the
future that you were there you existed,
you once live your life like those in caveman arts Death is unescapable truth
a very uncomfortable one, I think this is our reason for religion,
for gods the belief of after life, it console us, but is it
the truth?I don't know. Those concepts are truly enticing because it is an
advantage if you come to think of it but it is the TRUTH? I don't know