Looks Like Yoda

In a world of devoid of emancipationLike leaves too many question marksOn my conscience, why?Why look upThe ground is so much more pleasingAnd it's where these eyes belongI renounce,I renounce myselfWhat I have become is notWhat I wish to beBreak my neckI've become too accustomed to hopesHope's cruel graspProgression or regressionIt all ends the sameIn a world devoidEmotionlessIn a life such as thisOnly death is certainSo why waitBreak my heartCut my throatWhen everything has endedWhat have we accomplishedSlaves by designBreak my neck