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”