"Don't give me up yet"

Those words repeat endlessly in my head.

"I don't want to be alone"

Don't we all?

Is it not ironic,

How life flits away on its selfish stream

As we constantly long for more.

At the price of those around us?

What are we really?




Or can we be something more?

Can we break free?

"Break free?"

Of this madness,

Become something not despicable,

Find something more.

"I hope not,

For I have not the strength"

All we want is the ability to make excuses,

To be forgiven

For what we know we could have not done.

"Can I be forgiven?"

Then will you act wrongly knowingly because you can?

"But no-ones perfect"

Excuses, excuses.


We beg,

Are we really so pitiful?

"Better to give up pride,

Than life."

But is that really true?

"It has to be."

Has to be?

"If it isn't,

Than what am I?"

So what are we really?