How can there be no
respite, no quarter,
For me, whom they chose
for being able,
Why am I treated a
pawn, fate’s martyr,
When they all beseech
me remarkable.
Why, as if sailing
through a ceaseless tide,
I am thrust, unwanting
through storms of strife,
How can it be, although
so much I ve tried,
My heart is still
empty, devoid of life.
There’s no fighting the
tangled web of fates,
My will was never mine
to consider,
Like endless winter
that never abates,
My heartfelt desires
only hinder.
Since when did hewn
heroes die from within,
My life is no different
from a machine.
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