Is anyone in life truly happy?
or are they all just mindless idiots living a lie?
or maybe all those happy people are just fakers, making us believe they have great lives, all to disguise their pitiful, pointless, lives.
Those happy people are rotting inside, from all their Fu**ing lies.
These happy people are worst of than people like me who don't give a F****about happiness.
I feel sorry for people who are depressed, but I feel even worst for all them happy people who are tired of living their fake lives, but keep living a lie because they are afraid of exposing their true self.
This isn't really a poem, it is just something i wrote about one day that i was kind of mad. but at the same time i think its true.