Time and time again,

I feel I've reached the end,

A kind of deep dark hollow,

Which self-pity soon doth follow.

I feel like a piece of **

Useless material , disposed seen fit.

So many stones I've left unturned,

So many bridges I shouldn't have burned,

What is the point of this thing called life?

All I see is pain and strife,

Though sometimes you feel you've dealt a good hand,

It always comes down, crushed in to sand.

I may not be the perfect person,

I've lived, and learned, and almost certain,

Somewhere in this crazy place,

Maybe here or outer space,

There's a reason to why were all here,

And when we get there I will cheer,

For we are only human, now pass me a beer .