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Personal Note:

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Poem

some endure this wasteland because
they have to,
not because they want to---
yes, optimistic idiots,
this means that they stick around,
that they don’t put the gun in their mouths &
blow their skull out onto the wall behind them
because
others presently need them around
&
they do this in the most unselfish of ways,
they do this without a bit of praise,
they do this mostly secretly (waiting for the day),
they do this with hopes that their being needed
will expire
sooner than later---
and the religious will blab on about the
“sanctity of life,”
fostering the idea that to be created by an irresponsible
mad man for the sake of its amusement,
with only penalties to exist by &
with only more of the same to look forward to,
is something to get ecstatic about---
ah,
how lucky we are
to never 
ever 
hear the end of the fictional bliss 
that goes without one iota of proof,
how lucky we are to have to endure these self-righteous
worshippers of life,
who seem to happy to impose their own reasons on
others---
for to stick it out on one’s own,
to stick it out due to one’s own principles,
to stick it out for the sake of what 
one decides, regardless of what these ****s think is
a reason to be (with a distinctly harsh penalty for not wanting to
be),
would to live outside the realm of luck,
outside the realm of hope,
outside the realm of reliance on others,
yes, this would be 
living.

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