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Some Must Choose To Die.

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."