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.
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