Some Must Choose To Die.

Описание: Patient:
"There’s a word you never name,
It burns too close, it won’t be tamed.
Beyond your notes, beyond your plan,
It lives where I no longer can.

You smile, you nod, you take a breath,
But all I speak of smells like death.
You call it sadness, call it strain,
But I call it tragic, pure and plain."

Psychologe:
"Now, let’s take it slow,
There’s always light you do not know.
Let’s find the thought that hides the key,
To turn this grief constructively.

The tragic, you say? A fleeting word,
Let’s not give power to the absurd.
You’re tired, I see — but life can bend,
Let’s talk again when wounds can mend."

Patient:
"You want a drop of hope to show,
A proof that I still want to grow.
But I am done with climbing walls,
This life’s no riddle — it simply falls.

Would you ever say, with honest eye,
That some must choose to die?
Not in despair, not out of spite —
But out of truth, out of what’s right."

Psychologe:
"Don’t say that word, don’t cross that line,
You’re sick, not doomed — the fault’s in time.
There’s medicine, there’s care, there’s me,
You can’t just claim necessity.

If you surrender, I lose too,
And all my books lose meaning through you.
Let’s breathe, my friend, just try to stay —
The tragic’s only in your way."

Patient:
"You call it illness; I call it fate.
We’re not the same — it’s far too late.
Your mercy burns upon my skin,
While I’m still drowning deep within."

Psychologe:
"You frighten me — yet I must guide,
Though I can’t reach the place you hide.
If I admit you may be right,
Then all I’ve learned dissolves tonight."

Patient:
"You heal the living — not the true.
Your light can’t touch what I’ve been through.
Keep your hope; it isn’t mine.
The tragic is my last design."

Psychologe:
"Then let me sit, though I can’t save —
Beside your choice, beside your grave.
And though my craft may turn to lie —
I’ve heard it now: some must choose to die."

Your light can’t touch what I’ve been through.

Keep your hope; it isn’t mine.

The tragic is my last design."

"Then let me sit, though I can’t save —

Beside your choice, beside your grave.

And though my craft may turn to lie —

I’ve heard it now: some must choose to die."