What is the point-
Reminscing on the good times?
All they do is disappoint,
And chance for new joy is denied.
In looking back on the smiles?
They just make you frown
And a part of you slowly dies.
In hoping for salvation?
You end up waiting for nothing
And you're always steps behind the horizon.
Is there a point-
In what you do?
The wilder you get,
The more you lose.
Wishing on stars?
Each light will fade out,
But life stays as hard.
Crying at loss?
You render yourself helpless
As more things are lost.
When will I reach the point-
When there will be no more pain?
When I'm not helpless with tears,
Will I rise after the rain?
I can finally move on?
I'll finally stop missing
And accept things are gone.
When my life will be calm?
Try to set anger aside
And just resolve my qualms.
What is the point in living?
Is there a point at all?
When will I reach the point
When I can answer life's call?
