![]() |
Nothing really matters... |
| Apathy I think I used to be alive – but that is of no matter, For I feel dead inside now and all my dreams are shattered. The world’s about to end - but it’ll pass me by, It's a fate I'm unconcerned with, and I don't even try. It was the papers, I think they killed me - Burnt by cruelty and drowned in tragedy, A spirit suffocated beneath despair... Or perhaps it was something else. Idealism, a naive hope for better... That life proved false again and again, A flame extinguished, the life sucked inside out - Until there was nothing left but a dull ache For what? I don’t know But as I’ve said, it’s inconsequential. All we do is inconsequential in a world that’s spinning to disaster. it’s not my problem though and as you can see from this, i can’t quite be bothered even to finish this poem properly. sue me. I couldn't be bothered with punctuation and all the annoying stuff. oh well. |