We want
Desperately
To believe that
There's more than flesh
And dirt.
That when we die,
We're special
And we'll join the ranks of stars.
Because we're hiding
From the bleak and honest truth
That we amount to nothing
And there's no purpose
For it all.
You were not born
So that you can
Rescue orphaned children
Or make a work of art.
You were born because your parents fucked
And you died because you smoke too much.

Your son wasn't killed

As a piece of some master plan.

He was murdered by just people

For money or for land.
But pray if you like,
And read the planets' motions.
It won't stop the end from coming
When your head rests in the dirt.