Fake Life Poem by Michael Buchanan

Throw a punch, hit me down, beat me up, as i lay on the ground, i hope your happy, i hope you feel dominant, for your nothing more then a pathetic kid, looking for answers in all the wrong places, trying to be cool when there is no joy there is no hope, all you do is look for some more dope to help your problems dull them out, just to sober up and see again.
Dont you see there is no end, you have no chance, this is your life, is this your dreams, is this your hopes, spending your life running from the unkown, hiding in fog waiting for it to clear to make more.
What kind of life do you call that, how can you say that you know that you are ruining your life, if you did youd stop, youd lower your fist, put out your hand in surrender and let people in, just to get help, to get rid of this nightmare you felt and kept alive each night with the drugs and hurt, your life just never really worked