A Ballad Of Joy. And Sarcasm
Pain has struck me in my pen, I don't know what I wrote.
I don't know what I speak, it got control of my throat.
To the pieces, I write, and speech of my life.
This hole in my soul is sinking my inner boat.
Imagine a burning pain that doesn't allow you to sleep.
Imagine a 17-year-old, with an eight years of streak,
Of constant pain and misery, that deprives him of slumber.
And he cuts into his skin, you can't see he's hurt deep.
He thinks of himself as a curse, a burden on other people.
Thinks he is a root and the cause of all the evil.
Feeble, he is, and he has no will to go on, but
His friends are his anodynes that force him till his sequel.
He wanders aimlessly with the astuteness of a child.
The shrewdness of an infant who hasn't been here for a while.
Acuteness of his pain is interpreted as rudeness,
From life, from God. His sagacity faded quite wild.
Judge this man. He is broken and he ain't free.
Chained to his thoughts that made him flee,
Away from his friends, but he's back an