Defeated

What is the point in living, if we all know we’re going to die?

Why does new life make us happy? Why does death make us cry?

Why do wake up in the morning, just to go back to bed at night?

Why do we work to earn our money, just to save it out of sight?

Why do morals clash with feelings so its missery or sin?

Why is life an endless battle ground, we know we’ll never win?!

I wrote this about 18 years ago but it could just have well have been yesterday.

Will I ever feel anything other than this?

#poetry

#depression

#BPD

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