The world, it's harsh,
Isn't it?

Like a constant hard weight beating and pushing down on me.

Sometimes I wonder if existing is so important.

Since the world makes it so hard to live and barely allows existence,
maybe I should just give in to the pressure.

Even though a part of me wonders if I am but wrought iron being burned and beaten to turn it into shape.

What shape will I turn out to be in the end though?

Will I turn into cast iron or will I end up undesirable and discarded like scrap iron?

© MizaK
© MizaR