• If pain was power,
    The planet would probably be caved in
    By the pressure of my pathetic punches.

    If sorrow was water,
    I would be washed away
    By the waves of my own tears.

    If desperation was dirt,
    I’d be deserted in the depths
    Of the dry oceans of dust on the desert floor.

    If frustration was fire,
    My flames would feed ferociously on its findings
    Far further from me than a falcon could fly.

    If rejection was a rock rolled at me,
    I would be buried in the rubble
    Raked on top of my ruined body.

    If confusion was clouds,
    Clubs of creased lightning would carelessly kill
    Countless people who carry keys to my heart.

    There are two paths to take in this tunnel of torture: one will lead to a terrible “The end”
    While the other will take me to the end of the troubles that have just begun to torment me.
    Which one’s which? What a tremendous choice I have in my trembling hands.

    If loneliness was ice,
    My closest friends would be frozen
    Beyond hope of ever thawing.