What can you do when all is moot?
When in the end you can't give a hoot?
Pointless it seems that all must be
Cannot best the beast inside of me
A most sly, cunning monster is he
All eternity he has to torture me
Patience of pure hatred is his power
While alone in vile darkness I cower
He knows me better then even do I
The best of me he twists to make me cry
Towards evil he turns all I hold dear
As I cringe before him in abject fear
Even the mercy of God he blots out
No path round his walls can I scout
His essence shear agony and fear
Stronger he grows with each single tear
Alone and isolated he keeps me caged
While I've weakened each year that I've aged
Few understand it's not death I seek
I just can't go on, I've grown so weak
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem