What is the point?

What is the point,
of continuing on
in this bleak existence,
where pain follows disappointment,
the embrace of death
would be a sweet release
from a miserable life,
where good things happen
to the bad,
and the good,
is left behind,
struggling for air,
in this bleak existence.

What is the point,
of living a useless life
when those around you
don't even see you,
how they look through you
as if you're not even there,
and those who do,
take pity on you,
where the weak thrive,
and the strong perish,
and the intelligent are lost,
and the ignorant rule,
who would enjoy
living a useless life.

What is the point,
of staying alive,
where everything you see,
is a picture of gloom,
Death. Destruction. War.
the sense of impending doom,
sweeping across the land
leaving no innocence
in it's wake,
the plunder of souls
only serving to
strengthen it's might,
it's not living,
it's simply staying alive.

What is the point,
when no one will remember you,
becoming a déja-vu
a figment of the mind,
a passing breeze,
forgotten like an old toy,
a memory, readily discarded
and event from a far off land,
a voice without a body,
easily dismissed,
Unseen. Unheard. Unknown.
a ghost,
who would want to be alive,
when no one even knows you..