Untitled Poetry

If I'm fresh out of a life plan
Doesn't that mean it's come to an end?
Maybe my heart and mind have had enough
They've nothing left to dream of
(And we're all burnt out on the idea of love)
It's exhausting
Living life searching for happiness desperately
But why?
Because each day we slowly die
Yet fight, to find a purpose?
(Don't you think we;re wasting our time?)
Life is short you claim
But hell!
80 years seems pretty damn long
Don't get me wrong
...I get what they mean
But I'm one to read in between the lines
I realize I'm sounding rather pessimistic
And I could lie and say, "I can't help it"
But that's ignorant
(And I prefer the term "realist")
So I never judge those who cut life short
I've no idea what they harbor inside
While you run around calling them selfish
I call it courage
You know, we're all fucking dying
(We just don't all get to feel it)