i often wounder why i even try at all
and not just give up and cease to exist
there is no fun in life, no love, no meaning
life to me is meaningless and pointless
its a stark reality but oh so true
only the cuts and bleeding brings happiness
only the pain releases the mind
i now know why the caged bird cries
why the free birds bleed
both wishing it was where the other was
i have lived once before
and i have also died once before
i wounder which part returned with me