The Price of Life
I do not need anything anymore
Nothing whatsoever seem worth the sacrifice
There is this life I can no longer adore
Too much of time bears little of significance with goodbyes
Does it still mean something when you were young?
Whether we were loved or hated... what does it matter now...
However aged.. why are there always something to want?
How much years am I left with to find that nothing goes only around?
It just doesn't matter if I remember
Doesn't matter much for the things I'll eventually do
Time will move for the care of individual selves forever
We will die and always be replaced by the selfish anew
Have I knew too much or have I thought too far?
I do not want to lie to myself anymore that I'm a supposed person
Good or bad are only who understands what we are
How are executions different from murder with a valid reason?
Whether or not we become who we want to be
I will die and not even know who will know who I am
After unknowingly becoming this eventual me
I would ask perhaps "What is your price of life, my friend”
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