They'll tell you it takes more courage
To suffer than lie down and die.
But I ask you, does it really?
Somehow this seems like a lie.

Traces of us still found in thoughts that should probably be forgotten.
Beautiful reminders of how I ****** up.
Like gifts you never liked but held onto because they reminded you of someone you love.

Suffering is all some of us seem to do. Clinging to an illusion. Is there a reward?
Is there balm in Gilead?

I think I've proved my courage. And now I am tired. So might I? Might I rest? For good.