And so I stand at the crossroads.
And I lack the will to live.
How come pushing myself off the ledge
feels like a second definite
but falling twelve storeys feels
ten times that duration indefinite.
Could it be I've lost my will to live?
But to live is to will.
By faith that will in me grants me
strength to live.
Yet it is but a day's worth.
The will starts the day but
by the end of the day,
the will liveths no more.
Could this be the end, where
the will to die is hampered
by the faith of living?
Could life be simply closing my eyes
to will with death and to open
with a will to live?
A circle of life unceasing?
