Whats the point ?

let me ask a question

when your laying in bed at night beneath the covers on the brink of sleep

do you ever just stop and wonder why ?

why did you get up did you get up this morning ? 

 go to school ?

 why should i do anything, but stay in bed and sleep ?

if you were me would you ? get up and fight ? why ?

 with all the SHIT ! you've been through and you think you reach the end and look around and nothing's changed, 

what's the point of getting up in the morning and dealing with those kids and risk the disappointment of another failure

the barbed words from your classmates 

when the world becomes a battleground and life the war the school the trenches what makes you get up and fight ? 

when even at home you are made to feel like a slave to the world

where you crawl through the wasteland of your own mind and follow the x on the treasure map, made of the hope you have built to keep yourself sane

but someone beats you the the gold.

 The end, the prize 

and your left all alone with nothing but the memory of all you've given up the reach this point as your only prize

this is it

my life as best i could tell and it's getting to the point. 

Where I'M no longer the soldier in those trenches crawling in the mud, but a prisoner of war in my thoughts 

captured by my own despair

Knowing the only way to escape is the cyanide pill hidden in my sleeve 

A nectar to put me to sleep and hide me from the war and its terrible dictators

the monsters on either side

with this escape here

 so easy as a breath I to have wonder why i'm still here

 I ask you this.

what would you do ? 

waging a war for all internaty 

knowing that no matter the outcome you cannot win

the chain holding you too tight and prison to real 

whats the point ?....

hey everyone thank you for reading this if you are interested i have a you tube channel where i read my poetry thanks again my channel is call ...

                                                               Anthonytheoddpotato