If happiness is the price of knowing,

Would I pay it again?

For I always felt it was right,

The world has taught me that,

Through the heroes who did the same,

To know and suffer,

Than to be simple and prosper,

But I wonder if it was too rash,

To fling the promise of innocence,

Right off the window,

To see my hopes and dreams,

Land on the ground of truth,

Bleeding, left out in cold,

To perish.

What have I gained,

What have I become,

Just a sad human being,

Who knows there is nothing beyond death,

That nothing will make me happy,

That no utopia lies in horizon,

That every promise at best is a lie,

And every relationship a maneuver,

That every life is soaked in thick gory amnion,

Of utter chaos and meaninglessness.

Or would I rather be a child again,

Seeing best of everything,

Seeing hope in suffering,

Seeing point in everything,

Being able to write, draw, paint,

To sing to my heart’s content,

Seeing meaning in it,

At the cost of knowing?

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