This reminds me of 2 poems I read not too long ago, I am from Croatia and poets were Croatian too (although their nationality is uhhh...let's just say complicated cause they come from coutry that no longer exists, it broke into pieces and now it's debate on which poet belongs to which of new countries-like Nikola Tesla or Marco Polo-both of those are fought over by some countries, but that's not important now) so you'll get translation and that sometimes take away from lyrics, but I think not too much, that the message is still clear.
Daily Lament
How hard it is not to be strong,
how hard it is to be alone,
and to be old, yet to be young!
and to be weak, and powerless,
alone, with no one anywhere,
dissatisfied, and desperate.
And trudge bleak highways endlessly,
and to be trampled in the mud,
with no star shining in the sky.
Without your star of destiny
to play its twinklings on your crib
with rainbows and false prophecies.
– Oh God, oh God, remember all
the glittering fair promises
with which you have afflicted me.
Oh God, oh God, remember all
the great loves, the great victories,
the wreaths of laurel and the gifts.
And know you have a son who walks
the weary valleys of the world
among sharp thorns, and rocks and stones,
through unkindness and unconcern,
with his feet bloodied under him,
and with his heart an open wound.
His bones are full of weariness,
his soul is ill at ease and sad,
and he’s neglected and alone,
and sisterless, and brotherless,
and fatherless, and motherless,
with no one dear, and no close friend,
and he has no-one anywhere
except thorn twigs to pierce his heart
and fire blazing from his palms.
Lonely and utterly alone
under the hemmed in vault of blue,
on dark horizons of high seas.
Who can he tell his troubles to
when no-one’s there to hear his call,
not even brother wanderers.
Oh God, you sear your burning word
too hugely through this narrow throat
and throttle it inside my cry.
And utterance is a burning stake,
though I must yell it out, I must,
or, like a kindled log, burn out.
Just let me be a bonfire on
a hill, just one breath in the fire,
if not a scream hurled from the roofs.
Oh God, let it be over with,
this miserable wandering
under a vault as deaf as stone.
Because I crave a powerful word,
because I crave an answering voice,
someone to love, or holy death.
For bitter is the wormwood wreath
and deadly dark the poison cup,
so burn me, blazing summer noon.
For I am sick of being weak,
and sick of being all alone
(seeing I could be hale and strong)
and seeing that I could be loved),
but I am sick, sickest of all
to be so old, yet still be young!
-----------------------------
2nd-this one I like cause it says that life is indeed hard and shows a person who doesn't like it all that much, but still goes on and wants to live. Moreso I like how he gives no reason to why he wants to keep going, he just wants, maybe he has his reasons, maybe he doesn't know either, but he goes on and I think one day he will find that something that makes it worthy
Epilogue
You are much alone and often silent, my son, you are beset by dreams, exhausted by journeys of the spirit. Your body is bent and your face pale, your eyelids lowered and your voice like the rasp of the prison door. Go out into the summer day, my son!
‘What did you see in the summer day, my son?’
I saw that the earth is strong and the sky eternal, but man is week and short-lived.
‘What did you see, my son, in the summer day?’
I saw that love is brief, and hunger eternal.
‘What did you see, my son, in the summer day?’
I saw that life is a painful affair which consists in an unequal exchange of sin and happiness, that to live means to pile illusion on illusion.
‘Do you wish to sleep, my son?’
No, father, I am going out to live.
Summer Month: 3 
Night Weather: 
Heavy Rain Moon: 
