There are so many things for which I cry,
For love found and then lost for the wrong reasons.
For my soul, for every breath that I take, My eyes are never dry
For all the seasons...
For all that I hate,
For everything I wanted and couldn't have,
And that nowhere to be found mate.
For both the good and evil in me,
For anguish, and for despair.
And the things that I couldn't foresee,
I don't even know what is it that I seek. Why do I even care?
Why I'm writing, for whom?
Why am I letting my pen touch this paper so intimately?
It doesn't make any sense, I might be heading to my doom.
Nothing ever has been easy in my life,
To be senseless will be such a bliss,
This is probably the silliest thing I have done,
But this is also the only thing I can do right now.
Just letting my pen go with the flow...
For words to pour out and be lost in space and time,
For my thoughts to manifest on this paper,
And tear through my soul like a knife.
At least I'm not crying anymore...
Everything in my life has become such a chore.
There is no joy in anything I do,
But I've decided to make my last wish come true.
I may succeed or I may fail,
In the end, I will leave a trail...
Of sorrow and grief, of doubt and fear, and so...
Before I go, I will shed one last tear...