Every morning I stare into the mirror,
Only to look at the corpse that holds my sleeping soul.
'Every second of every day, my body slowly withers away.'
That's what I would have said...before,
But now my body quickly fades.
With each step I take, I feel as though I'm being punished for mistakes,
Mistakes I've made and mistakes I will.
My strength and my stamina decrease...
But my will...it stays the same,
Strong and lasting,
Always powerful and never passing.
Giving up just isn't in me.
So I push through each day...
But now it's night
The saddest part of my eternal fight...
When my soul awakes and my body cries out 'no!'
Begging it to sleep a little longer
And awake to appreciate the rising sun lighting the day...
Instead of darkness...
But my soul declines,
'The night is beautiful' it argues.
And the eternal fight continues,
But I press on until my dying breath,
As I always will,
Because my will
Remains strong until death.