I Walked Around My Good Intentions And Found That There Were None Poem by Isaak DeMaio

The future's sold out,
I've never seen a loser win,
there is no use in screaming,
loneliness: the only sad man who grins.
 
Happiness is not a dream,
I must sadly confess,
reality is the sickest game,
that leaves you tasteless and unimpressed. 
 
This craved addiction is useless,
I can't remember your name,
every egocentric I've met,
left me sad, obsessed and in vain.
 
This thief inside my head,
has a narcotized skill,
a numbness i cannot relinquish,
overdosing on pills that kill.
 
Cold breaches into my blood,
my lungs and ribs collapse within,
passing out for the rest of existence,
silence makes me the best I have ever been.