Everyday and endlessly tear’s runs down rivulet through the anguished face.

Running down the ruin’s of thine silenced soul.

Sighing fails, while vultures seeks my soul to be silenced forever.

Emotions goes back and forth not reaching any freedom of comfort.

Memory’s of joy and peace are wiped on the presence of existence.

The sick bed has had enough with the dried bone’s that hopes thing’s will turn around, as sadness is thine daily bread.

The flesh is bruised without healing, rest is something forgotten.

Mocking and scorning is thine daily routine; even the distraction remedy fails the situation.

Sometimes it feels like I can sleep forever and never wake up.

Rebellious nation’s rebels even when the flesh is losing interest on the bones of man.

Our societies have no sympathy, all they can do is to rejoice over the death of the righteous man while wicked killer’s go free!

May all troubled soul’s find peace, God saves.

Happy is the man who found solace in ink.