My Last

Everything we’ve seen until now
Will disappear and be our last

There’s no point, but I attempted to scream anyways
I realized that my voice is hollow
What I have killed, is my own heart
What I have done, doesn’t really matter
It’s just an object

My present time in this world
Will be unable to reach my future
If my “future” remains nothing but an empty wish
Then I don’t need that wish, I really don’t

I am still unable to forgive
My own weakness
No matter when or why
I am always this fool playing the victim

Is it possible
That thе “object” I had killed
Is the hеart invisible to my vision?
The most hopelessly useless actions and objects
Will someday be rewarded and recompensed

(Ha-ha)

My current time in our world
Will never reach the future
If this so-called future
Never changes from an unfulfilled wish
Then I will never need it, I won’t ever need this

If I’m the only one
Living this joke of a life
It must be the reason I exist
If I were to make that joke my motive
I would not have a problem
However
There’s no point in doing that