The End

What's the point of it all?

We're born,

We play the cards we've been delt,

We die.

What's the big picture?


Does God sit above on his throne, toying with us like a puppeteer,

enjoying himself?

Or is God merely some people's false sense of security?


What will happen in the end?

Will the world go down in flames

turning us in to piles of ash?

Or will life continue forever;

a horrific, never-ending chain of nothingness?


Where's the end?

Is there even one to look forward to?

My soul is drowning inside me,

suffocating on eveything I will never do,

places I will never see,

people I will never meet.


This world is crushing my spirit,

my love of adventure.


When will it end?

When will I be satisfied?

When will I be content?

When will I no longer feel the need to quench this thirst within me? 


View deadpoetssociety's Full Portfolio
AngryLaughter's picture


He says, “SOON."