This life is all we’ve got

      This life seemingly so long

      But over before it’s really begun


            One chance to get it right

            One time to make it count

            And no path to tell us where to go


                  A finish line appears behind us

                  An end before the start

                  Lost before the prize is won


                        Our path hidden from sight

                        Our purpose in the shadows

                        Revealed only once traveled


                              One chance to truly live

                              One chance to fully love

                              Once in so short a life time


                        Who is in control

                        Who shapes our path

                        Is it us or those who surround us


                  True love giving always

                  Taking and receiving never

                  More pain than being alone


            Betrayal and lies

            From ones you trust

            Cost of giving your heart away


      Trust and love squandered

      On those who shun and scorn

      The most precious gift of all


Battered and bruised by the end

                              Torn and bleeding from wounds

                              Inflicted by those closest to us


                        Yet we carry on to the end

                        Seeming blind to the horrors

                        That nip at our heals and maim us


                  The only reason selfish

                  The only way to carry on

                  To live for only ourselves


            The path most often traveled

            The less painful course

            But least worthy of our blood


      True salvation in living for pain

      For others unconditionally

      Through the sweat, and tears


            The true life being love

            Though painful and harsh

            Cutting us and making us bleed


                  But in the bleeding of our wounds

                  Finding purity of spirit and mind

                  Rejoicing in the hideous torture


                        Reveling in the agony

                        As we are dismantled and rebuilt

                        Time and time again along the way


                              Celebrating in a bath

                              Of bitter tears and dark blood

                              Thick with cries of relentless torment


Burning desire turning flesh to charcoal

Beneath it new skin emerges

Seeming strong yet more sensitive


            Molding each into a solid gem

            Of the rarest, most pure form

            Perfection attained through fire


                        Only to use us to carve another’s face

                        Or to adorn an unworthy body

                        Smashing us back to dust in the end