The Chosen Path

Grave filled with papers Illnesses and diseases around Words and numbers full of pain Like black plague sinking in to the soul Every day the same pattern Every minute same agony No reasonable escape, no clear path The loss of control over mind The stress induced aching inside Tired of trying tired of fighting The egsistence, the end seems determined Can’t escape the feeling of living on the edge on the borderline of redemption, the imminent escape Everything and everyone seems temporary, lost in a haze Life ruled by minutes ticking out, by things gone by Too much thinking, digging in the past Present day drowning in a sea of regret Neglected duties piling up, threatening the future The unbreakable circle, the same routine No pleasure to be found, no point to look for.