First Poem Ever, Should I Finish

Some people hide it well, much more better than others. You'd never know the thoughts that cross you're neighbors mind, right next to you. DEATH. The sweet, sweet salvation of death. Nothing must matter in that moment. Nothing. All the nonsense of living must just cease at that time. That blessed time when realization kicks in. At least, that's what i hope for in my moment. So much to think, nothing to do, is life pointless? Why am I doing this? What shall I do later? What is there to talk about? What's there to do? Am i going crazy? Or is everyone around me crazy, just in a big ball of crazy chaos. The mindless chatter of people, I'd rather be lone in a room or piercing silence. Piercing silence and blank walls, nothing to do, but think about nothing. Death, is that you? The craving for you grows as the days, weeks and even months creep by. Rolling in time spent on nothing important, nothing great. Happiness will strike you once in a blue moon. The world is right, as your mind, until another rush of life hits you. Maybe that rush of life is as simple as a thought. A thought of life itself. This routined structure called life could drive a man mad! Going about the same old same duties, day by day, each day, just waiting. Waiting, Waiting for something else to come along.