Tar has sealed me—
tight, unyielding.
Step by step, I will bleed,
and every drop that falls
will pave new roads
of sorrow.

A man lives
through his sorrow,
and a man must live
with himself.
To live with oneself—
a weight.
To be human—
a curse.

Always, a direction to follow,
always, a journey.

I just want it to end,
everything,
always.
I want time to stop.
I grow old dreaming
of not being.

Every nerve in my body,
every fragment,
every hatred,
the dead-end path I walk—
let it all end.

Let it never have been.
I want nothing.