I don’t see the point in living

When the ones that make you cry

Are the ones to whom you’re giving

And no one can see your worth 

Because they, themselves, are worthless

And you wish you weren’t born

And you hate the ones that birthed you

It reminds me of a book

About a Scientist and creature

That was not about the fright

But no one could get the picture

They write their books for fools today

For this very single reason

Because that’s what people are

As if to read a book was treason

Which reminds me of the fact that 

No one is really reading

We’re just killing fucking trees

For no apparent reason