The crypt (the souls always remain)

You know that people come and people go, the souls always remain within our space but never in our sight. And you still want to confront the creator for the failures and the pain you feel inside, the simplicity of your existence, unknown and indifferent to the rest of the world. So you try once again to battle and once again you fall, once again you get hurt that feeds your excitement and causes you pleasure. But you have to know when to stop, when to give up and realise that people come and go, your life goes on, no matter our many tears you cry or how many punches you throw at yourself as you remind yourself what you could do with the lost ones.
A victory never tastes like a victory when you force it, when you try so damn hard to get it that someone just gives it away in a gesture of pity. So that causes trouble and fights, never the pleasure that you seek, even in the pain that you feel inside and the tears you cry in the night. Alone but not lonely, you feel safer inside when the moon shines right trough the window directly into the bed where you lay. It comforts you and makes you fall asleep and dream the worst nightmares you could ever imagine. Cry as the black sky turns red of blood, the blood that man bled to make this Earth what it is. They fought for your existence and there you are, crying.
The sight of the cold crypt in the shadow of the moon, the vision in your window, your mind, it's apocalyptic and cursed, falling apart and regenerating itself to continue to be your sight in the night. The wind blows and the autumn leafs fall upon the crypt of marble, grey and in decay, slowly tearing down the rest of your life. Close yourself in self-pity to make the anger fulfil the body. And the souls will always remain. Remember that.