I felt a rose bleeding red,
A thorn bush at its zenith,
Why so painful is cry and tears,
In my lonesome , meaningless solitude,
Through my unanswered prayers.
Last morning I woke and found,
The black night was still there,
Insane deaths were at the door,
Knocking into devil’s den,
Into my life of peace and pride.
My last love marooned away,
Where my lifeless soul cannot venture,
My rotten boat still sailing away,
With no destination to reach,
But then to sail away from my—
Formative years.
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