My head is emaciating,
Like poisoned noesis,
Heart is filled with sour liquor,
which made soul totter out of my flesh.
I'm filled with rejection,
Thoughts of grave crossed my mind
Even death lures me like bawd,
And my good heart turn to bad.
I walked with bowled head,
least blade of death dropped my hair,
With burdens of burning depression
which becomes hunchback, clinging to me.
What shall I say of the route?
my path is slippery and dark like asile of hell.
Round me becomes cemetery, the voice in me
echoes loudly, " You are a loser" !
With light at the end of asile
And steps I've taken, I knew
I have covered more but the voice
in me is drooping my sailing ship.
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