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Debtor
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Hope for Death
I'm just a worthless waste of space,
nothing goes right and it never will.
The world I built has turned to dust.
Despair and misery are all I can feel.
Who am I? What's the point of this life?
My groans are pouring out like water from this wretched weak and pitiful frame.
I know I have no future here,
but I will hold onto you.
When everything I worked for withers up and collapses and all my best endeavors are worthless defeats, and all they would have gotten me anyway is empty vanity that rots to nothing - everything I do washed away by the waves, building sand castles with the tide coming in; the one pure thing that lasts is service to you; I want to make this count.
So give me love, make me whole. Let my time be worth something at all. Give me love, make me whole. Restore my hope.
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