A Short Life Wasted
by Self Pity
Oh, woe is me!
What little have I accomplished!
No one loves me the way I want to be loved!
Who will mourn me?
No one, save those who benefitted from my being alive!
To all else, “Yes, how sad,”
And not another thought.
My life is meaningless.
What’s the point of it all?
Raise children just long enough for them
To become the next dredges of society,
My son will use women,
My daughter will use men,
And neither of them will ever truly
Be happy.
They may end up with some disease
Like their mother
That makes them unwanted, unworthy of
Anyone’s love.
My blood is poison
My vagina is death
And no man wants a woman
That he can’t fuck.
I take pictures for a living -
One among many.
Everyone’s a photographer
So who cares if I’m gone?
Life has no meaning -
And I’ve all ready said that.
See, even my words are meaningless,
Repetitive, empty,
Heard by no one,
Going nowhere,
I might as well be dead.
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