And when we returned we had been changed We felt emptier Depleted Bitter
In perpetual wanting Discontent siphoned off The air in our lungs All we gave blood for Came to pass
Somehow The heavy weight Of realised heavy hopes and dreams Pulled us into the ground.
Paragraphs can be written about the unhealthy human condition called perfectionism that gnaws away at one's soul until there is nothing left, the setting of unrealistic expectations upon oneself. The enemy is the voice within that roars MORE MORE MORE when you accomplish something as it creates the illusion of defeat.