Prick

And I'm left, feeling,
Like I've grown too old,
That my bones are creaking
& the feeling's gone,
That I'm any good,
As my selves collide,
And again, there's another expl0si0n.
And I drowning again,
In this ocean.
Where they all talk shit,
& we all know it,
& the world's not what we thought it was,
Our lives are wasted, just because,
We thought that we,
Would do some good,
That God was good,
And that He would,
Sustain our good,
For all our days,
That we would prosper,
Through the losses & the gains
Immune to all the futile games
That keep the bottom at the end
And rob us all, with what's pretend.

I'll survive you,
Thouest, scheming prick.