What becomes of mere perceptions?
As faded words and hopes tear them away?
Am I left to walk this World alone..
With no one to help keep the demons at bay?
Though in truth every struggle is a hand,
And every day is just another one dealt.
Do I have what it takes to play them right,
And keep the winnings under my belt?
To exist is an easy task to achieve,
But living is another struggle in itself.
Have I taken a single breath I am worthy of,
Or have I not earned a place for myself?
Mere breathes don't account for anything,
Because life; in the end is just a game.
After I have gone and turned to dust,
Will the World remember my name?
