I'm always talking.
Are you really listening?
I deny what I am.
I deny how I feel.
Because of what it causes.
Tragic, disappointing losses.

There's not much I can do or say
That can relinquish what's already done.
I can only push to be better, to be okay.
Push to be as warm as the summer sun.
And hope that I will be someday.

Farther and Farther..
Deeper and Deeper..
Harder and Harder..
Weaker and Weaker..
I can only try.
Push a little more.
I haven't much to give..
Haven't much to live for.