I fail to remember,
when this journey began.
Can barely recall the first walk,
or the first time I ran.
My feet wore out,
somehow the heart seemed to ache.
Should I even rest,
when there are so many steps to take?
My knees begin to buckle,
does this mean I have to crawl?
Chin on the cold, hard bottom,
is there meaning in struggle at all?
Define a specific purpose,
set all these worldly goals.
If ambition is truly fruitful,
show me how the path unfolds.
My body has been scraped,
trying to make two ends meet.
Comfort is a distant dream,
true happiness I’ve yet to greet.
Each day brings hope,
that is crushed and bound to doom.
Rainbows wither before my eyes,
as the sky slowly falls to gloom.
“Carpe diem,” is what they say,
but that is such a lie.
Barely holding on to an inch of life,
waiting for your turn to die.
A good life is around the corner,
crawl left towards the next bend.
If each day is a new beginning,
I only wish to meet my end.