Nothing Trees /Meaningless

What is the point of being

A rich privileged faggot

With no kids, no friends

No depth and no perspective.

What is the point of being

An incel

With all that rage

And no one but yourself

To inflict it upon.

What’s the point of being

A tree in the woods

Chasing after

Nothing?

The older I get

The more I think

There’s no point to raising kids

You hate having

But there’s also no point

In living

Without creating.

I suppose

Selfishness

Is the real beacon of the times

The real trademark of

Who is enough, and who

Isn’t.

In an era where

The only thing that matters

Is your image—

Everything, truly

Everything is meaningless.


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