Is the chosen way better than the life once known?
I think so but sometimes, sunk in the despair of my existence
I long for the other life. Would have been easier to live with it
Nevertheless truth is nothing against self-deception
Deception
Principles are worthless if idealist can't carry on his rules
With his own recollections... So that's the better way
I lived in great grief, for them, for myself but overall for the memory
That I could be one of them... and life's shadow made it vanish as a dream
Me, in blind agony of my frustration, in more than one occasion
Begged to live for anyone of its merits
Did I beg for more
Than i could take hold?
I maybe hoped perfection for a tortured soul?
A soul never fed up with sorrow... never minds now
Here, where neither a star with
It's poetical light full of mysteries
Is the chosen way better than the life once known?
I think so but sometimes, sunk in the despair of my existence
I long for the other life. Would have been easier to live with it
Nevertheless truth is nothing against self-deception
Nor the sun with its warms rays of life
Caresses this dimension of existence
Here the journey towards darkness
Begins through roofs of cold stone
Though perfidious
Walls which show death's tumefaction
In the glowing torches
Now and here the only thing
I remember... the last breath of my mortal despair