I´m running out of ways
ways of endurance
Methods of escape are all but used
Pain hammering the inside of my skull
forcing itself upon me,
offering no release

Made an irreversible decision
the reward was
no loophole, no choice
no altering of direction

Like characters unwillingly
caught in a book already written.
Tucked away in the shelf of fate

This is a piece of crap,
but I don´t want to go to bed,
having to face another morning

Endless days, and yet to few.

Sometimes I wish
I could just quietly cease to be.
A subtle breeze
blowing out the candle,