Cycle

In this life we do three things,

Live, breathe, die,

That's what our bodies are made for,

It is up to our hearts to feel human,

Our ears to hear guile and truth,

Our mouths to taste the bittersweet taste of life,

I feel broken,

I hear screams of hell,

I taste the crimson flow of nature,

I live my life,

My life is dead,

Therefore, I must be dead too,

Wrong,

I'm the wintering rose waiting for spring to start.