I was bored the other day and wrote an emo poem.
Hope is for clowns. The earth is a circus. We dream of happy endings but no one can guarantee it. You could die unfulfilled unloved, so abruptly, for all we know true love is a sham and misery is our destiny. Just live and expect nothing. The only thing we are guaranteed is our place in the ground to rot or as ashes in an urn to be sprinkled around in the location of your choice if it can be afforded. We inhale love if we are lucky until it dies and then we exhale pain and sorrow, regret. It’s always so surprising even though none of us a