Once again, I am alone with this troubled soul of mine.

Midnight nears and all my hope quickly disappears.

I’ve tried to drown my sorrows in floods of cheap wine.

But it seems like this time, I cannot evade my fears.

.

So I sit still and listen to the walls of this empty room.

“No one cares”, they taunt me. “Just end it”, they haunt me.

“There is no one who can save you from this doom?”,

A berobed, scythe-wielding figure says, sneering at me.

.

Like a giant man, This figure towers in front of me.

But unlike the last son of Jesse, I wield no stone.

For it is apparent that God has no favour in me.

Therefore I shall face this mighty fore alone.

.

I have thought of seeking the help of a friend.

But I don’t think I still have any.

So I’ll weep ’til this night comes to an end.

Just like I have done in so many.

.

Then at dawn, I’ll get up and practice smiling.

So that my kinsman will stop worrying about me.

But deep down I know that my melancholy is winning.

And soon, it shall become the end of me.