Why live?
If I were to die,
Fall further from the hope of happiness.
Fall deeper into dreary emptiness.
Why live?
Those few things that make me smile;
Mean nothing to the dead.
Yet the tormenting depression,
Would be instantly gone from memory.
Why do we force ourselves to live?
Through the constant chaos,
And the falsities that we deserve.
We deserve wealth and are given shit
We need happiness; and are betrayed once again,
And again,
And again.
Rich fuckers live in excess.
Leaving nothing and caring not
For the vast many. That live through the endless cycle of mentality.
The unanswered knowledge and the unspoken truth mean nothing…
If I am dead.
So why do we live?