On a sleepless night

Death is inevitable,

Self knows the truth.

Yet it scorns,

To depart this sphere.

Pain is provisional,

Self knows the notion.

Yet it desires,

For abrupt salvation.

Freedom is fiction,

Self knows the humanity.

Yet it battles,

To break the chains.

Dream is uncertain,

Self knows the fate,

Yet it hopes,

For it to transpire.

Eternal is falsity,

Self refuses to admit.

Deceit it believes,

To etch another scar,

Upon its soul.