I wonder when time will end for you.
Not because I hate you.
I see you suffering terribly.
It pains me.
You're short of breath, huffing like the big bad wolf.
Your chest rises and falls so quickly and you're sweating awfully
I want you to slow down for once.
You're as sick as a dog that contracted Parvo.
Your bones creak when you walk; your muscles tire.
Why do you do this to yourself?
You are a knight with rusted armor, yet you continue your journey without repair.
You wrestle your dreams wearily, never resting.
This is madness!
You fight like David did Goliath, only you're losing.
When I say I wish you were dead, it's for your own good.
So please, don't despise me when I tell you so.
I swear it's for your own good.
(Hope this is alright. Tried my best.)
