i am the harbinger of agony, now mourn in ways previously unimaginable

I am solely a biological tool The hand in an incoprehensible cycle of misery the knife of flesh which cuts all greater light to pieces There's no point to my personality There's no point to my feelings Nothing cares about who I am or how I am doing as long as I am doing and remain a cog in the perpetuum-mobile of wretchedness As long as I can pass on the tradition of deep hurt I am solely a bundle of genetics that needs to go on for no point except its own permanence. A tumor, a virus, a prion We exist within a false sense of rights The right of higher spiritual meaning The right for a happy ending The right to independent choice Yet no one granted them, no one promised them And even if the promise exists Why would the promise be held? Death is an immoral, worst thing that is to be feared existentially Yet it is the only conclusion, but... a thing to avoid at all costs? That which haunts us throughout our entire life Yet life is worshipped, cherished, for... what exactly? Itself? Haha, just kidding. Go live and be happy. It's not like you have a choice :) frog by "Dric" on insta found on pinterest