The drive of life wants to kill me.
Regrets, desires, and most profound depression,
Tormenting every idle second of the day,
Strangling emotion and distorting my perceptions.
All these lovesick and battered human-beings,
These patient sufferers and aggravated beasts,
Painfully clinging to their needs and desires,
Everyday pushing their will until it breaks.
These heart-broken, lonely, and distressed human-creatures,
Desperately striving for some comfort and love,
Vulnerable and exposed for those who would use them,
Forced to be strong, to be brave, to be thought of.
Why don’t they collapse and refuse to get up?
Why don’t they stop and just scream “That’s enough!?”
Why, when they do, do they still cling to life?
Why are we defined by the things that we fight?!
It feels like the drive of life wants to kill me.
My sicknesses and struggles still pound in my head.
Disappointments, failures, and bloodletting traumas,
Unceasingly torture me. I’m alone in my bed.
Alone… Frightened… Starving and weak.
Then I remember how much we’re the same.
I realize what little self-worth we live in.
I realize how pained I’d be if you ever gave up.
I’ll go on for you, because I want love to win.