What would it take?
What would it need?
Would it be just one more little push?
And then I could leave.
I can't stand what I am,
What I was, what I've become,
I can't just give up,
Then He'll have won.

So often I look up,
With the eyes of a child.
I remember those days
When passions were mild.
No pain was as great.
No pleasure as strong.
Everything passed.
Is wanting that wrong?

I've seen far too much now.
Done too much wrong.
Dealt too many wounds,
And still its not done.
I can't let Him win,
If He exists at all.
I just can't give up now
No way but through
Push through the terror
Straight through the pain
Blood pouring down
Red running like rain.

Even now I can't say
All that I want.
I can't do the things
I know that I should.
I could run away
And leave it behind,
But I'd still have lost,
And I can't flee my mind.

There ya go, have some incredibly bad, incredibly depressing poetry. Hell, if you're reading this still, then its your own fault and not mine.