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The land of distant dispair

lies right over there.

A few steps more

and there I go.

One or two more

tragic events may

lead into a void for

which there is no end.

A clamy hand tries

to touch my soul.

The hand of death

feels oh so inviting

despite the cold.

Cold and Warm

intertwining leaves,

such a good feel. An empty feeling

I hold so dear.

For all the weight

I have to hold

seems somehow gone.

And yet

What's the purpose?

To live and to die..

If some were non-existant

Would I have no greif

for to cry?

Would Life be

simple, and I

be strong?

Of course not No

How could I be

so wrong?

There would be

Something else

to drag me down.

Was this meant

for me?

A new thing would

make me cry.

Perhaps it'd be

another guy.

Why oh Why?

Why must we Cry?

Why?

Why must we grieve?

Why?

Why must we love?

Why?

Why must we hate?

A distant land

of despair lies

waiting just

over

there!