What's the point?

What's the point of wasting words in vain?
What's the point of slitting your wrists, when you no longer feel the pain?
When all you do is make mistakes, and every day life seems more fake.
What's the point of acting normal, when you're only obscene?
What's the point of trying to be nice, when it's easier to just be mean?
What's the point in falling in love, when the outcome is a broken heart?
What's the point of trying to pull yourself together, when you'll just fall back apart?
What's the point of missing you, when I know I won't see you again?
What's the point of living now, when there's sure to be an end?
By: Tisha Bryant (aka mudd)