For What is Life?

Her screams in the night
are what makes me cry
as I hold my head down
and I let my face lie.

Is it rage or anguish,
guilt or misery?
that that flow through my veins
and become a part of me?

The neighbours can hear,
should I be ashamed?
Is it her or is it I
that ought to be blamed?

She is all I have,
all I have is she.
But she takes my heart
and throws it with glee.

Every night I cry in my bed
and wish for death to come for me instead.
For what is life but nothing at all?
compared to the sweet slumber of that heavenly fall?