Like a bunch of roses without a vase
his dreams wither
His heart is filled with shivering tension
his soul burns with passion
Like a wondering Jew
his soul wonders
wrapped in deep thoughts
He pours sourish murmurs
like a street beggar in front of an empty bin,
his soul is grilled with longing.
He came a long way in search of a peace of mind
only to find pieces.
He was tired of his own home,
the suffering pushed him out
his folks became monsters.
He could no loner bear the pictures of his everyday life
Sitting on a cornerstone near the river,
he covers his face in his trembling palms
even though he feels the fresh breeze
its like civil disobedience for him.
once again his soul
craves for harmony
His home problems caressed
his anger and passion rapidly
hot blood streaming in his whole body.
For in the corners of hope
he had found hopelessness
his soul is wounded
Deep down his heart he feels pain
it cannot be cured
no medication can help
neither the cutting edges of a knife in the theatre,
nor a traditional healer on a mat.
His great expectations had shuttered.
his soul groans with regret and betrayal
and he realises indeed his dreams are shuttered