And this is what it becomes.
A struggle.
We are all victims of it,
Though we often try to convince
That it is not the truth.
We are not struggling,
Not drowning in disappointment and regret,
We are not struggling,
We say.
We are living on the paths dealt to us.
We are meant to do what we do.
There is no struggle.
There is meaning to everything.
There is a reason,
We tell ourselves.
But I am no longer convinced,
My wavering voice,
Wavering with the fear of nothing--
It no longer reassures me;
Is there someone there to help us?
I know the answer.
I have given up on grasping into the darkness.
I fear the answer.
Long stopped my quest for the truth.
I have chosen to struggle.
If there is someone there who cares,
They will make themselves known to me.
I will not search.
Those of you that wish to go on looking
Can continue in their ways
But they will always know
Deep within themselves
That what they search for
Cannot be found.
Life is life--
And I fear
It is nothing more.