Oh, what has changed about me.
Let me count the things.
Lost my taste for good poetry and good love.
Hell, don’t even think the latter exists.
Feel tired every minute of every day.
Feel depressed half of the time.
And apathetic the other half.
Perhaps someone could help me out here.
Maybe someone could prove my feelings inaccurate.
But, with what’s happened before, I doubt it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Isn't apathy just the bitchiest thing?