My pain couldn't be subsided;
As though nothing had ever happened.
The shouts in the dark always echoed
Leaving me all alone,
They, made me to be pushed and forced.
My destiny all in darkness,
Here, is no access towards my own ways, anymore.
All my dreams in the darkest of grave,
With my memoirs far underneath it.
No contact with the ones who made it light or less.
Even for a little time.
As some fairytale, all I have is sore destiny.
Now hope to see forward, with all glories canvas,
My colors are everywhere spread.
Tips of my nails are filled with colorful grime.
Now that's what I call the shout to destine.
My grieve, I always left on two,
Either on wood or cotton.
You think cotton always to be true but they are just thoughts.
And the wood; the one my path crosses through,
The things they do and say to me.
Still no solace is seen any where near me.