I I had one wish
I would wish for true joy,
Joy that was
All mine.
Joy that did not have consequences.
But wishes are only dreams
And when we wake up,
It was only a memory.

Every day is the same.
I work until my thoughts
Begin to jumble into incoherant mumblings
Late at night.
The next morning I wake up,
Reluctantly,
And prepare myself for a day of rigorous work and training.
There is always work
And there will always be work,
Work is eternal.
Naturally, when all one does is work,
One desires change.
But change is scorned and punished.
I must only do work.
The enjoyment of not working is destroyed
With my racing heart and my nervous consciousness.
I can only do work.
If life is about the jouney, I wish my life was over.
My journey is all trials and relentless beatings.
To be a pretty useless thing would be fabulous
because then there would be nothing to despise.