The Origin
Oathean
The struggle to free myself from this unbereable pain within
I, who supress myself again and again, collapse drained of all strength
In incessant strife and inescable time, victory and defeat are divided
Once again that sad fate is forsaken upon the line between victory and defeat
A faint remnant of my figure fading into indifference is smeared and thrown again
The strife within surges up again, the line between anger
And patience is destroyed
There is not even a hope of freeing myself from bearing the yoke of human fate in the weak-minded figure.
Through the inevitable discovery, I am frustrated again
My existence has already become one of resignation
Even though I look back with a desire for escape, in the end
Everything I see before me returns to the origin
I can struggle to my feet, again only using the force that crushed me
And this is the reality of my birth
Towards the beginning of hypocrisy, the embers of rage flare up again from my collapsed figure
I can not throw my tired body away into another situation
Arising from that anger
This cycle of discarding I abandon and forsake, again the origin
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