Good is never good enough; better is never best.
I could sleep the whole day through and never get a rest.
What haunts me is the fear, the guilt, from messing up last time.
What drives me is what lies ahead- to win this mile to shake this hand, to be one of the best.
I walked down the medical aisle late last night: the products read "happiness", "peace", "panacea"...
I picked up the bottle to fix loneliness, the one I take every other day.
I still have that mad craving inside to be someone or have someone or really just know someone.
And it doesn't go away every other day.
Good is a term they twist with theology and psycology to mean whatever they want.
They have played this game so long that I always loose.
They make their own truths...
What is truth?
So I ask yet again:
In the end, do we all die like mortals?
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