What are you suppose to do when life gives you wounds?
What do you live for when you can't fix them, after you repeatedly tired and failed?
Do you just sprout wings, and fly to where you can't ach anymore,
Or do you limp through the rest of your life, while you reach for what you can't have?
Why do you scream, even though you know you will never be he heard?
Why do you bother to feel, when it means nothing to you?