Rotting corpses soon to be,
It’s a big joke being played on you and me,
Rotting rotting rotting, rotting all the time,
Living? Heck no;
Dying dying dying, dying all the time.
Don’t be naive,
It ain’t no bed of roses,
You’ll fall far more then once,
You’ll get your bruises.
Bruised and scarred,
This journey takes no prisoners,
Shows no mercy, kills all,
Winners and losers.
To be happy you must be mad,
It is, after all, terribly sad,
To watch yourself die slowly,
You know you will horribly;
Watch the things you give your life to, gone,
And watch your loved ones go, one by one.
The fruits of your labor,
You won’t be around to savor.
It’s all in vain,
Despite the success you attained,
Eventually you’ll feel the pain.
The recognition you sought?
Your efforts were for nought.
When all’s won and lost,
And said and done, you’ll see.
A stupid man he must be,
Who does not regret it.
The sooner you loose your inebriation,
And the false divisions of colors, castes, races and nations,
The sooner you wise up to it,
And see it for what it is,
The better off you’ll be.
Illusions of power, status and money.
All is a folly.
Running in pointless circles,
To achieve illusory and meaningless ends,
To believe everything a god-send,
And art unto itself an end,
All a folly.
Close your eyes,
When you’re sick and old,
Or open them now,
And see not everything’s as what you were told.
You’ll feel the pain,
A sinner or a saint,
The killer or the slain,
The mad or the ’sane’,
The different or the same,
The wild at heart or the tame,
The ones who point fingers,
Or the ones who willingly take the blame.
’Cause when you’re dead and buried, you’re gone,
So what’s the point in holding on?
The above is a poem I wrote when I was severely depressed.
Thanks for reading! Don’t worry, I am in a much better place now!