PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I'm tired of getting my hopes up, and even more so of being confused. I'm tired of feeling worthless, and even more so of being used. What exactly is the purpose of being so heavily abused, that my body, mind, and soul are constantly skewed and bruised with hues of blue, and why can only so few not seem to be amused by me constantly being the one to lose against any one who wishes to fight against me? Maybe it's only myself I fight against, maybe I'm the only person to accuse for my state of loneliness and restlessness that has left me so bemused. In the end, nothing in life is really new, just the same repeating bullshit and pain that lead into the constant confusion on what the hell we should do to find some happiness and try to undo the ridiculous slew of strife and worries that life has thus far put us through. There's no hot bitches nor angels to rescue you, only lost witches and demons to pursue you and chew you and screw you until nothing is left except invisible bruises on your slowly beating heart. Whatever, fuck writing more, I'm through. You could still have hope, but fuck, what's the use? Even with all your hope, you're still going to lose, so I've thrown in my towel, and so should you, because nothing that ever happens is new. And regardless of how happy you are, I promise it will all crumble soon.