we're like this: humans picking up litter that decorates

the ground just to throw it away, the truck takes it back

to another piece of land just to litter again. and yes, life

discriminates, it's cruel; picking and choosing who gets food,

shoving love down throats just for them to choke it back up,

blessing those with curses we don't dare think of, and breaking

down the people with words coming from other human's mouths.

life loves to remind us how we're all just so utterly, pointless.

then there's death, she's kind; she doesn't dare discriminate against

anyone, regardless of any crime. she knits a blanket over the world,

so to keep our corpse warm; sewing broken hearts together, bits and

bits of color: the color of your lover, the color of your pain, the color

of a hot summer day, the color of your broken winters. she takes your

soul kindly when it's time, while whispering, darling, this moments

yours alone, don't worry, you're not as life says you so: pointless.

and you didn't call off your wedding for me, you called it off

for yourself and used me as an excuse; cause if you ever loved

me, you would've told me sooner and never tried to marry another.

i can't love you, i'm not supposed to be in love with you, this wasn't

supposed to happen, please, leave me be. there's broken bits of

our past scattered on the floor and my hands are far too scared to be

trying to pick them up (any more); our present is a blur without

glasses; and our future needs to be no more. because us needs to

be one word that i'm trying to remind you of, what you're love was like

looking back at everything: meaningless.

even though broken ACs come with the summer territory; i don't

mind excuses to visit other people's houses, avoiding home means

never coming across you. 'cause my brother learned milk and water

don't go together, i told him that, he didn't listen. we were kinda like

that: all hopeful and curious, just to end up ashamed and broken from

unknowingly knowing. so being with you is the past, and i'm far over

that, so let's end the pretending and be what we're really meant to be:

meaningless.

the older you grow, the more your heart dies; and i learned

this true after i left you, making me remember when my father

told my mother never, i started to wonder about the first love

of my best friend who was like my brother. & when i pressed

my chipped nails against my forehead after clawing your words

from my breast, i sighed the words whispered to me every night

i lie in bed: you'll die with the same concept as a living cadaver

walking around, worthless.

they're always telling you how you're so young, but it's only like

that until forever comes soaking you up to the ears, then you're

calling yourself old, that's the thing, you're never just young,

because something is always telling you for you. but even though

i was careful, it didn't help; it seems you can be the only one to

break yourself (healing is a phase that comes in burst; don't hold on

to it for too long, or else you'll find yourself dangling from a cliff

without any help). so when you've been given a piece of land worth

more than you, wrapped in the sorrows of others ('cause why wouldn't

we want to bury the dead in misery?), you'll realize that growing meant

giving pieces of your soul away. leaving a paling, lifeless thing, that's

completely and utterly worthless.

pointless (adj. use when describing life’s concept vs death’s): having little or no sense, use, or purpose.

“we wonder if things are pointless in the beginning, but we’re far too scared to admit it, so we feed ourselves silent miseries throughout life trying to figure out if the loving’s real, just to learn death’s words, that we had some of it right.”

meaningless (adj. use when describing love): having no meaning or significance.

“words are only bitter until after they’re said and you’ll learn this when you’re full of regret; no promise makes loving any friend of mine, they just make it even more meaningless.”

worthless (adj. use when describing your life): having no real value or use.

“empty lives are like coins thrown in wishing well: worthless, you’ll never seem again, but when you’re walking by, there they are, youthful hopes matured into losing a coin for later.”