I do not know how my courage stays
to live until the end of days
to be myself the whole day through
when life always seems so confused
the fragile existence of the heart
to know when it is time to part
finite is the human emotion
until you come upon the notion
that you know in your heart,
you care for that pain, that you know is there
the passion of oneness,
the feeling of loss,
the incompleteness,
when I realize the cost,
the heart longs to move on, but I will stand,
the will to live on clutched in my dying hand
the story has a beginning, do not pretend
the heart will find love in the end.
Today(like every day) is a good day to die
