Drive

What cause is there for a man to live? But a dream life is, empty, soulless, dull. How lost am I? Without will do I push on... My heart of ice burns at my shadow of existence, in a useless verse. Unclear has my path become, for love only betrays and effort returns only waste. For what a man am I? There is no need for a drive, there is no need for hope. Happiness is a surreality, life is but an empty dream, a mare of hell and disparity.