The Last Aim

Can you help me escape the morning after? I

Wanted to race with myself out of my creepy life.

In the middle of the light, I only see the darkness,

Bound with many blessings, but I only see the pits.

Every hope I get just melts and turns to wile,

Not every sheen is gold, and devil could wear a smile.

I've chased many words for me, it sounded like a home

Some doors maybe opened, but only to prove you’re alone

Why am I still trying—do you think I’ll arrive?

I’m stuck at a crossroads, rethinking my life.

If I chose the right road, do you think I’d find my way?

If I found another hope, would it just decay?

Maybe I’m out of the race, maybe I’ll always be a strange.

Maybe the map keeps lying and all these signs are fake,

Is the path I’m walking chosen, or made by my old mistake?

Oh God, I feel so tired, so please don’t pull me back to futile.

I’ve been broken enough, so please let me be reconciled.

I’ve been blackballed enough, but I guess this is my last aim.

My last aim is to live, my last aim is to be healed.

My last aim is to be fixed—but do you think I could be relieved?

If this is my last aim, I guess I’ll give it a try to breathe.

If I don’t make it through, at least I died while trying to be.