We are victims of life,

Nothing but a side-effect of death.

We cut wounds with our own knife,

Beating back strife with every breath.
***

Down here the walls are paper thin,

Never dampening the sound of isolation.

Instead we are beat into a state of chagrin,

Loudly breaching the barrier of devastation.
***

What is life? Said everyone to us all.

Is it nothing? Nothing but failed attempts at everything?

Metaphoricaly beating our heads against a great stone wall,

Milking and surviving from the hope to which we all cling.
***

Are we suppose to torture ourselves?

As the self loathing narcissist we are,  doomed to sadden.

Collecting nothing but bad memories on a shelf.

And the opposing forces causes us to madden.
***

With good intent we believe in striving for betterment,

But the result is null.

We work hard wanting a better sentiment,

Continuing our efforts and bludgeoning our emotional skull.
***

Dark are the days behind us,

Dark are the days ahead.

Nothing but happy thoughts should we discuss,

Less our happiness be but completely bled.