How could I, this future, look up to When this past of mine haunts me too? Would things ever be the same When all I did, lost in vain? Death, the end of us all, waiting Should I stand still and not ascertain? That the fact that all I ever do is waste time again
All these moments that I was supposed to uncover, now lost because I cannot recover From this grasp, of these shadowy hands, they bind me, holding me, embracing me...
These feelings I have succumbed to, surrendered and knelt to Lost the feeling, the need to overcome, to stand strong once again What must I do?
To rid myself of them?
Should my future become predictable? To let ev