Scattered Mind

In a chair a boy sits

and ponders his existence,

not knowing where he fits

in a cosmos of atoms and stars,

     with his wits without him.

Head in the clouds

and heart in a trap,

still alone in the crowds

that ask him why.

     Why do you exist here an now?

     Why is your soul so still?

     You walk by un-helping, how?

Yet this boy sits, and knows

there is nothing he can do

to change the world or it's woes,

despite the 'deep thoughts' that

he posts on prose.