Unto What End

What is the point of going on, is there something left to find? Too many days of rise and fall have left me far behind. And what’s to gain in trying to feel what I see others feel? The only thing I feel these days is that nothing is real. I often sit and wonder what the whole damn thing’s about, when this life seems a pointless game that’s ruled by fear and doubt. Yet I admit there have been times when everything was clear, but no one else can understand so, I’m alone I fear. And so, I see through wanton eyes and feel with hollow heart, but something keeps me going on start after faltered start. Unto what end have I been born? Deep down inside I know. There’s something I’m suppose to be… unto that end I’ll go.