What do you do when you feel like your insides are nothing more than a meaningless glob of goo, sustaining your pathetic excuse for a life? You blindly go through the motions of your melancholy day, wondering why the hell you have to do the things you do, and sit alone each night, dreaming of a world that will never exist beyond the perimeter of the bundle of nerve cells that nests itself inside your ugly head!
Reason for writing:
This isn't one of my better poems, but it is exactly what was on my mind at the time that I scribbled it into my notebook, so here it is.. enjoy!
Birth sign: Aries
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