To quit or not to quit--that is the question:
Whether 'tis simpler to keep trudging along under the weight of the world
And face the cruel criticism of each smiling face,
Or to give up and fall under the weight of pressure
And, by slowly letting go, avoiding all success.
To keep going, to finally give up-
No more - and by continuously trudging through
this unknown hell we call life -
I find out what each day has-
'Tis a catastrophe
that I'd prefer not to face.
To quit, to lose all hope
To lose all hope, without final consent. Ay, that's the problem,
For in giving up what events I could never experience
When I am hiding from the world's harsh judgment
Must make you stop and realize.
That's the foreseen item we are faced with
That makes the destruction of giving up.
For who really wants to face the world and the judgment,
The first insult spread by an unworthy tongue,
The labeling person's mean names,
The sadness in people who turn the other cheek,
The semester's first midterm,
The overly impulsive opinions of condescending people,
And the harsh looks
That those judgers tend to cast on those who think of the opposite agenda.
When they too have lazy moments
That occur on hard points in their life?
Who would take the advice of some judgers who
Narrow their eyes and scoff at the first sign of failure,
With the annoyed looks in their eyes that something could have been a success.
The unseen areas that could have happened which
With the failure could be a success.
All this while we stand frozen as statues,
Wishing we had not let them win over our failure
Instead of giving them lee way to do so.
Thus the chance of quitting and giving up does make failures out of all of us,
And thus the ecstasy of giving up
Is stained by the judging success of those with more will power,
And the easy feeling of not having to worry about anything
With this regard my tedious thought is drawn to end
And has lost the easy going feeling to that of a hard world.
