Never have I felt so final,
Out of breath, out of fight.
Is this the final fight?
I stare in the mirror, a defeated man stares back.
If this is final, why does anything matter?
I care about people, do they do the same?
I look at people, try to see what they are inside,
Do they love someone, without that person loving back?
Maybe this is not final,
Maybe it is the start of hell.
