Feeling Down

Is it not natural for humans to cry?
Then why am I holding back in pride?
What is there to paint a smiling lie?
From whom am I attempting to hide?
Will my whispers ever ascend so high?
Or drown into a heavy gloomy tide?
Is my soul almost ready to forever die?
And leave behind useless inks dried?
To whom shall I weep and say goodbye?
Who will walk over my grave after I died?
On the deathbed, how will I lie?
Curled up? On my back? Or my side?
Will you, reader, be there to dry
The voices of tears? And guide
The people through the heavenly sky?
So that everybody stays by my side?
O reader, you may, one day, ask “why?
Why have you not lived and tried
To recreate a peaceful world? Or fly
Towards the sun on a unicorn you ride?”
Or reader, you are a really innocent guy,
So forget your dreams, put them aside,
Because, to you, I will never deny
The peace that was forever denied.

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