Lonely nights when you cry
you wake up in the morn with evidence
laced in your swollen, puffy eyes.
But you dry your eyes and realize that
it'll all be worth the tears when you get that coveted prize.
New life.
New dreams,
it seems all these material things define
the life we all want
but don't want to work hard for.
A soul's torn,
a spirit scorned...
all so that a promising manifestation can be born.
Comfort I know not.
This is all I've got.
Me.
The endless abyss of this that is what isn't and shouldn't be...
me.
The gauntlet's thrown down and I will not pick it up.
I give in.
That's right; I give up.
But who's to say?
Who'll be the judge?
Myself and my soul.
Good job.
Well done.