I wonder, what will I think as I take my last breath;
as in one instant, my universe crashes to earth.

will I be proud of this brief moment of light;
as I return to the void and the sun fades out of sight.

will I still care enough for this aimless charade;
to shed a tear for this world which I slowly made.

or will I, when I have nothing to lose or to hide;
admit enduring this descent was a matter of pride.

I wonder, for how long will my memory last;
before my dearest friend forgets me, and I am lost in the past.

the next day the sun will rise again, the people hurrying to work;
the flowers still blooming, the earth rotating like clockwork.

but if no matter what I do the ending will be the same;
is the only way to win, to quit playing the game?

wake up...
fix your face, thoroughly clean your teeth...
above, left, right, all around, underneath.

get to work...
no time to breathe, look confident, look active...
to have a good life, you need to be productive.

get home...
tiredly, don't think, sit in front of your tv...
let your mind drift away, for an hour, be free.

finally, for a second...
remember, reflect, realize, and regret...
then stop, forget, go to bed, and reset.

hello, I don't know you, and you don't know me,
and sadly, it's likely that so it will always be...

but still, I write you a letter, a poem, if you will,
in the hope that one day, I will break this sill...

in the hope that somewhere, beyond the sea,
there's a person that just might be in the same pain as me...

in the hope that someday, i will meet you at last,
and through a miracle, this whole thing will be in the past...

and if one day this letter, this person finds,
I'm sure he will see, someone like him behind the lines...

and altho my hope is baseless, it is all I possess,
and I know I can't afford to have any less...

and so, I write a letter to a friend, that I don't yet know,
in hope, that one day, it will not be so...

I worry, but not just that, I am a warrior... to worry is my full-time job, and it requires a 24 hour work day, every day, I worry when I wake up, as I work, when I eat, and while I dream.

you don't need much in order to become a warrior, you don't need a horrible life, you don't need to be starving in a third world country, you don't need to be on the brink of death, no... anything short of perfect is good enough... in fact, its probably better if your life isn't too hard because otherwise, you might be too focused on actually fixing problems in order to worry about them.

worrying is easy, literally, any problem, even an almost imaginary one, will suffice, just pick something, ANYTHING, and think of the countless ways in which it could go wrong, because it can, it probably won't... but it can.

it's not about logic, you can understand perfectly well that you are doing all you can to fix it and that worrying won't help and that it will probably be alright... you can understand perfectly well that in a week you will probably forget about it, just like the countless other things you have worried about in the past, but it won't help.

I am addicted to worrying... its a drug just like any other, in that you get mentally and physically addicted to it, and in that, once you get a taste, it's VERY easy to become addicted... like I already stated, anything short of perfect will suffice, just think of any problem: a fight with a friend, status, weight, your career, taxes, life, death, running out of your favorite brand of ice cream, or even the fact that you are worrying itself, all are perfectly good reasons to worry, ANYTHING is.

I am a warrior, and I'm tired of fighting myself.

there was once a kid, which I used to know;
staring at me from a picture, of a life lived long ago.

I remember a kid, as the memories fade;
who used to laugh a fake laugh, at everything that I said.

I remember a kid, from long back then;
who died as he lived, in resistance and pain.

a confused little kid, who I used to be;
who died long ago, to make room for me.

there was once a kid, which I used to know;
who I left behind, many long years ago.

I know there's no point to be happy, neither to be sad;
I know there's no point to be nice, neither to be mad.

I know there's no point to the losses, neither to the wins;
I know ideas like hope, are preposterous things.

and yet I still laugh, and yet I still cry;
and yet I am still terrified, to know one day I will die.

and yet I still care, and yet I am still sorry;
and yet where there is none, I dare to write my own story.

for whatever that's worth...

hello, bright sunny day, I'm miserable once again;
people say to just be happy, but I'm not a fan.

the ground is not enough for me, no not at all;
I don't want to be stuck on this tiny blue ball.

I want to fly, up high into outer space;
and punch god right in his bearded face.

yes, I want to defy, I want to control;
I want to be the only one that dictates my role.

I want to be grand, I want to be all;
to be god for a day, I would sell my soul.