so i sit alone under my window and gaze into the stars wondering what so many others are doing and why they have better lives than i nothing ever changes, from week to week, year to year, ashes come down cigaretts are mixing with coffee grounds forming a pasty, nasty mixture that grayishly exists exiting stage right just to prove once again that everything you wish is actually nothing, i am but a microcosm of this world but my existances seems larger than all others there are better men than me out there, there is more to life than fun and fucking and masturbation but nothing seems to get done, for me anyway always there is a stall of some sort, everyone runs away we close by death, we open by life nothing interuppts this cycle we love by hate, we hate for love nothing interuppts this cycle we sleep by night and live by day nothing interuppts this cycle. AND NOTHING EVER WILL.
Reason for writing:
i don't need to say it. the poem speaks for itself.
Birth sign: Aries
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