semi-deadpoet

Hit of the century (with no music)

We die for feelings,

But live for the empty.

I live for nothing,

Yet I die for everything.

 

I am the problem child,

And my life\'s worth nothing - 

Nothing but a bunch of bricks

That I use to throw at you, 

For the person I once knew -

The one who looked just like you,

But now\'s a simple gift reused.