Life is pointless
Like an ever revolving top
It'll take it's spin before falling over still
It laughs in your face
Like a bad memory
That resounds in your nightmares
People make it worse
Even though they see your troubles
They make thing complicated by adding their drama
So why?
Why must we go on?
In this never-ending carousel?
Like a haunted carnival
Life is full of terror
And the rides will never end
Until you give in
And leave it forever

I couldn't think of a better blade than you
                     Because you cut so deep
        *You don't leave any trace that whatever you sever even existed

the chickens keep bawk-ing
bawk bawk bawk
their pointless views, and
having each other
roasted in the end.

-qyf

I have a wrist watch on my left arm, and I find it pointless
because, I still can't control time.

Let's talk about your hair and how it was always falling your face
How during the summer red highlights would dance in the sun and in the winter it was always pushed into a hat to keep it safe from the cold
You used it as a shield to keep the world from seeing the void of emotion in your eyes
But when you met him
You no longer played with the bouncy curls that swayed from left to right
You had them pinned down in place
So afraid to have a single hair out of place
So afraid of not being perfect for a single second

The hesitant hand speaks through the white abyss beyond its dark eye.
Worlds are created here.
Excuses.
And words of love alike.
Men and women have died clutching and wrestling with this enigma.
The need to be understood.
What need is there when what is counveyed.
Was never captured at all.
Forcing more and more blackened guts onto a surface for criticism.
Only to claim the meat bellow grade and tossed away.
It's the output that heals.
That begins its torture like tools to ****** about the mind.
Plastering over more wallpaper with graffiti.
Trample over the art created to assume the role of the next tramplee.
Be humble yet there are no holds bared once the summit is in sight.
This cataclysm has taken enough of me.
And this righteous path.
Can only play granny for so much longer.
Before I too will grow fangs.
And tear this pointless paper to shreds.

I don't know how to help myself,
where do I even start?
I could write paragraphs of words,
enough to fill miles of the open world.
but these words don't help to change,
they only help to vent out thoughts.
When will the real change happen?
there is so much to see and do...
yet it feels pointless on my own.
I can't seem to grasp it,
repeating routines, how can anyone be satisfied.
I need to meet more people,
I dont know where to start, where to go...
Just completely stuck.