יותר שכל ממזל

?Every day is like a blow to the head. I have to face the small miseries of this earth, yet again. Why do we prosper in sorrow

?Why do we reap what we simply cannot sow

?How do we tell right from wrong when our poor souls ache ever so

.Troubled, I find it hard to keep walking on this burning soil and ashes, the empty corpses of the living haunt me every day

.Ghosts, seeking justification of their own existence, oblivious of it's absence

,We cry when we are born, our mothers scream and suffer so that we can only do our best to find some purpose in life

.sometimes not even our own

.We do this to ourselves, knowingly and willingly. This is true masochism, so pure, so natural, so elegant

.This is pain

.We want more