What's the choice?

Words fade away
And their meanings tag along

There is pain today
And there is no song

All there is, is myth
Of a thing called salvation

In the face of it all, I breathe
I cling on in desperation

Let not this heart shatter
For I won't be able to pick up the pieces
My fingers are cut; they bleed
My eyes are blurred by my tears

Let not this friendship crumble
For I won't be able to cement it again
My arms are weary; they've been abused
My soul is forfeit....

For I am another slave of the heart.

So, what's the choice?
Live in futility - where there is no colour or music or laughter?
Or, to seek something I really yen for... but something I can never own... and end up killing myself running, trying to finish a race that's already won by someone else...

What is my choice?