Rage.

Life have been making me give up every step I think to take
I have been killing myself bit by bit, piece by piece
and somehow, adoring it, because only at the end of it all
I will find peace.

Hoping it gets better, but every day I am worse within
The rage have been increasing
On a way that is leaving me without air,
No air at all to breathe,
To believe I am still here, not only existing,
Not wanting to disappear away from this despair.

Give me a light, give me an answer: why do I exist?