happy new year
why do we pay for the privilege to die?why do we search for ways to occupy our time,
only to find, in the end,
that the ending is meaningless?
why do we search for meaning
in empty church halls,
darkened smoke filled bars
and offices filled with fake personalities?
"i think i let the world kill my true self,
and i don't know who i really am anymore"
why do pay for the privilege to die?
and where did i put that bottle?
(i think i lost my soul
in the midst of my search for happiness)
"three, two, one...
happy new year, everyone!"
5/15/15
Poetry by Thomas Perdue
Read 657 times
Written on 2015-05-31 at 23:18
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