For pain doth cometh when must I confess,
that I am not discernibly the best,
despite efforts, exhausted then, unless
soon I surrender this eternal quest.
And what is a road less traveled by, if
thou dost not get to a destination?
And so often do paths end at a cliff,
that I’d rather accept my damnation.
But what is life without being alive?
T’is a song, sad without word or meaning,
and even if words come, those which that I’ve
lusted for, light, shining on my being,
I contrive, nothing of this world hath worth,
For in the end, we all turn back to earth.