kill myself yet still pursue, this life that yields me nothing. nWith words I break my heart for you, and still I tell you nothing. nI do not deserve to live for I am too afraid. nIf I were asked to choose between this and death, I might just choose the grave. nCover graces, my ears and eyes. nHow lucky might I be, for through my disease, my blindness and rage it is only now I see. nFight through sight. nToo wide behind. nYou forced off comfort and glory rises, but it knows that it is only a temporary fantasy that will soon give way to sight.n Give way to anguish. nGive way to life. nHold still and you just might catch all three. nOh glory rises, how lucky can you be?