There are times when it seems like all forces oppose you

When you're trying your hardest but nothing will budge

You might even curse or begin to hold grudge, at the world 

Or the God 

Or yourself 

Oh, the latter is icky

'Cause the feeling of creeping anxiety's sticky

It will come during day, keep you restless at night 

And there's little to help you with winning this fight 

For there are so many who'd fallen, and alas

Should you choose to keep going, you won't be the last.

"Self-inflicted defeat" 

Is this the post-mortem line you'd like people to read? 

However, there is an alternative measure

It consists in deriving particular pleasure

From life as it is

Upsides, downsides and all

Making sure to see them as two parts of the whole. 

Life's events - they don't come with no label

Yet our minds are on a perpetual duty,

Working on transformation of natural beauty,

Occupied with creating a "meaningful" fable. 

It's high time to make choice.

But choose wisely, who's voice

Guides you further, 

'Cause it would be a pity, a waste

Realising that "good" and "bad" moments are fleeting,

Never having a taste

Of life's loving, yet passing embrace.