Some days
It’s just not worth it
Trying and struggling and failing and falling and…
Running a race that never ends
Fighting battles I can’t win
I’m so tired
Please just let me rest
But there’s no rest for the wicked, they say
And I can’t do anything right or well
There’s just no point, is there?
No goal, no pot of gold,
No celebration
The cake is, as always, a lie
A lie I kept telling myself
To keep going through endless torture
Not wanting to face that there is no reward
Only more torture
Until you die
