I keep telling myself,

There's always a light

At the end of the tunnel.

There's always calm

After the storm.

There's always a happy ending

To a tragedy.

But this light is harsh,

Like the lamp in an interrogation room.

But this storm is hard,

The little boat that I am can't make it through.

But this tragedy is incomplete,

There is no ending.

What is the point of living

a life worse than death?

What is the point of staying strong

if there's nobody to impress?

What is the point of fixing yourself

if you would just

break

again?