Turncoat said:You've tended to call yourself lazy if there aren't other people involved or if there isn't some greater structure around you to do the steering for you.
You're too weak to live plainly for yourself, so you adopt grander concepts to do all the work.
I mean, I recognize there's a lack of motivation at times, but I try to work on it.
Turncoat said:You've tended to call yourself lazy if there aren't other people involved or if there isn't some greater structure around you to do the steering for you.
You're too weak to live plainly for yourself, so you adopt grander concepts to do all the work.I mean, I recognize there's a lack of motivation at times, but I try to work on it.
How long have you been saddled with "trying"?
You have a point, by working on, I mean I've been forcing myself to do more on my own recently. I got through half a podcast I've been trying to watch for educational purposes, I used to just lay down and listen to podcasts all day, but that all changed when I became this way. I guess as my previous self, I did more more shit done in some way, at the cost of extreme emotionally instability. I find myself with a lack of self-discipline that annoys me. Though, on some level, I feel like the military could help, of course I have to do shit on my own to get it to work. I can't be entirely reliant. It's something I'm going to do damn it.
Only a child,
From the womb of a machine
Harvested from tank,
Like waking from a sleep,
Born with me, from the first breath that I take:
"Know their mistakes."
A world that found redemption through a planet's dying lungs
That witnessed all the fire that blotted out the sun,
Through the Purge could it begin to be undone
What they had done.
There is no glory or greatness found here
No tales of valiance or of courage over fear.
This is the fate of the deserving warzone fodder
Those born with sin and live without honour.
By every passing day, the ranks grow ever thinner
This as it should be, here, corpses are the winners.
Survival of the fittest, our deaths have been assigned,
And I choose mine.
I inherit sins from those who came before
Our cursed bloodlines, tainted to the core
From this dead world, the lessons we have learned:
There exists salvation in the cogs and bolts of war
I know nothing of the trenches I am to die on.
Nothing of the causes that I'm born to fight for
Only that redemption lies in breaking opposition
I'll never pause in obtaining exoneration!
Not like the masses who live their life in gain
I am disillusioned
Arms wide open, we embrace our fate
My life for absolution
We stride to hell unflinching we do not hesitate
No survival instincts; only faith, innate
Thorugh our pile of corpses, triumph we shall gain
While our cannons rain fire, make the Earth quake
Marching to the trenches, then charging to demise;
Nothing but gasmask and lasgun to utilize
I am expendable, a tool for His plans
To kill as is needed and to die as He demands
Advance upon the battlements and win this through my blood,
A war of attrition
To hinder their progress as my carcass rots in mud,
A suicide mission.
To bear the curse of life that must seek vindication
Was not my decision.
As I step forward, I feel no hesitation.
Amongst my division.
Just a mere child, born and trained in a flash
Raised as a brushstroke in His portrait of ash
I am expendable a tool for His plans
To kill as is needed and to die as He demands
The signal was given, from the trenches we dash
I see bodies scatter and spread as forces clash
My blood drips to the soil in a ruby splash
Am I forgiven? Did I find redemption, at last?
In an endless cycle, I am a nameless link,
The millions from before gone, too, in a blink.
Those who'll come after shall earn the same stigmas,
May the mountains of our corpses earn a scrap of His forgiveness
