what's the point in preserving ourselves
being cautious and well behaved
if we all die in the end
don't smoke, don't drink, don't sin, don't harm yourself
they don't want us to have any control over our own actions
maybe that's why we're so fucked up
we have to rebel to be able to feel
slice through our skin like we want out
fill our lungs to the brim with chemicals
drink the whole goddamn bottle
but all the non sinners
the do-gooders and the majorities
they all die in the end
we all fucking die
it's a fact of life
more real than God
and as unpreventable as the Sun rising in the morning, and setting in the evening
so why not have some fun
YOU ARE READING
dark poems
Poetrythis seems like poetry and prose sometimes it's more than you'd suppose see, what my mind creates, goes but what that is, nobody knows
