I am a useless being,
Really.
It's grim to think,
I know.
Because I'm just living to die
In this vessel that wills
But will eventually tucker out,
And then what matters?
Certainly I don't.
Not in this vast universe
That doesn't care
If you're in love or all alone,
If you've got a nice house
In the wasteland of suburbia
Or if you waste every ounce of yourself
Because you know,
You're just going to die anyways.
And anyways what's a life wasted exactly
If we can't even figure out what the meaning is?