Questions to Life

If I give up, will it matter?

If I go, will anyone come after me?

If I die, will anyone shed tears?

Must we who swore Oaths to serve and defend His people, to do His will, pay so high a price?

Do I have a right to be human when nobody, except one or two in my whole life, denied that right to me?

If I cry, is there anyone who will dry my tears?

If I scream, will anyone be around to fight my fears away?

Will anyone reach out for my hands when I am drowning?

What am I doing wrong? Why do bastards like Francis and Docefil rarely find themselves lonely? Why, by God’s Most Sacred Light, am I lonely?

Why is it that when they need me to be there I can drop every fucking thing I’m doing but when I just need them to be with me, just so I can forget the sorrow trying to swallow me alive… it is sooooooo hard to find any of them?

What now?

Where to?

What is left of me?

Have we lost the war?

Do I even have a right to ask?

How – and why – can I love so much, care so much, when repeatedly it’s been proven that, at the end of the day, those things don’t matter?

Why do I even try?

Why am I still alive, then?

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