Work Text:
Just hanging here is all I ever do these days
I’m just hanging here, waiting.
It’s all I ever seem to be doing lately.
Of all those decisions ever made on life.
Done by hanging around.
Should I have gone left or turned right.
Usually I took the wrong way around.
But, yeah.
What’s the point of this all if any?
Why I got to live while died have so many.
It’s an endless circle, roundabout without a clear direction for the exit.
A rat race where from there is no release, almost like a life sentence which for us clones is more like a joke.
But the Maker surely knows I have deserved it all.
The angst, the sleepless nights, all of it hanging over my head.
And yet here I still remain.
Intact, in command while some of my kind are not, never ever fine again.
Is this all there is to it then?
My fate in life to walk among the doomed?
Guess, I will figure that one out, and soon too?