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Is There A Point?
Is There A Point?
By jfarrell
I’ve tried,
But I just can’t make this goddamn machine work right;
Me, as a person, as a machine, piece of meat;
What am I spose to be?
Me? I’ve been nothing for too long;
Drunk, drowning in my own misery;
“that’s a life choice; you can fix that”;
I’ve been trying.
As much as I want to think “now is all I have, tomorrow is yet to be written.”
When I start tomorrow, yesterday will enslave me;
Before I wake, the dark that stalks my dreams, my waking;
And that’s just the crap in my head.
Why I’m still here, I don’t know;
Probably just cowardice;
Sorry, but, really,
Is there a point to this?
Is there a point? To all of this? To life?
