This Light at the End

I got nothing to do, and nothing to Build,

These hands are rendered useless except when I Fulfill,

This poetic deficit, to demonstrate my skill

I should use enhancement drugs and pop Pills,

And I should see a therapist like Dr. Phil,

Before I'm found dead on the Top of a Hill,

With a rope around my neck, and hand Filled with Lots of Bills,

See the value of my money was Instilled,

I never inherited shit from my parents and I Still,

Wish to Tilt all this weight and Suffocate Until,

I no longer have emotions that bend my Will,

That explains why I have dreams of Friends I'll Kill,

See I want to be liberated and get off this Treadmill,

Because my legs have no feeling left only Chills,

Running from these Shills, I lived Mostly for the Lonely Thrills,

Following a doctrine of Discipline that would only be broken if I were Killed,

Or so I thought, though I also thought that in a sea of Sharks I was the Only Krill,

Destined to be put on Roasting Grill for the rest of his Hopeless and Ill Life,

How can you be happy if Having hopes is Vilified,

If everything you do is seen in their Little Eyes,

And the judgement is vocalized with Subliminal Vice,

And your Principles Collide with the Conviction of your Principal's Mind,

And your family sees you as a growing Criminal that Belittles the Wise,

And the confusions Resides in your own Way of Life,

And the other see you as a fool trying to Change The Tide,

Within this tunnel now you're Chasin The Light,

But you get tired one day and sit down to Embrace The Night,

And then start to question what is the Aim of Life.