Hope is a myth.
To live is to die, to die is to die, there is no hope.
I see the world ashen, aflame, burned, scorched, molten, squelched.
My soul thirst for that which is right; it cries out for goodness, is weeps for justice!
The world mourns the dead, I mourn the world.
All my rising is a burden, better had it been if I was never born than to witness the destruction of the world I came into.
Life is an unending road of burning tires and weeping mothers. All my hope is turned to despair.