Truth Is: It's Pointless Poem by Isaak DeMaio

But the truth is: it's pointless,
to live in a world I call my own,
to think of these things only I know,
to dream of feats too big to show,
to suffocate and bring an all time low.
But the truth is: it's pointless,
to see you suffering from my pain,
to make you stay here to keep me sane,
to pilot me as if I were a plane,
to think you know what's inside my brain.
But the truth is: it's pointless,
to devise a plan for just you and I,
to understand me when I'm more than meets the eye,
to wait it out when we know we'll never fly,
it's pointless when we know everything must die.