Call it what you will, be it heartless or insanity,

But I find no point at all to exist.

It's been fun, in a way, just to be,

Yet on this I must insist.

 

It's boring, and monotonous, 

And ever so dull.

Every person is obnoxious,

Their voices rip through my skull.

 

There's no point in being, if just to be,

And that we fret over something that's nothing.

There's just empty space we've filled, a reality,

So purposeless, it's simply disgusting.

 

So, yes, I find displeasure in all that is here,

The simplicity and tediousness of it all.

The void unforgiving, and drawing me near,

And why should I stop, and not fall?

 

Dare I say this to the common fellow,

Scare and disappoint those around? 

Following up a hello, 

They will send me to the ground.