Nothing I see, makes me want it
Nothing I touch, makes me feel it
It just feels like I am already dead
Not in the body, but in the heart
Nothing I do, seems redeeming
I only perceive endless suffering
And an unquenchable yearning
For love, for hope, and some meaning
The only solace, is in knowing
That, in time, it will all be ending
And I will be finally resting
Not hoping, not seeking, just being
