I have been born to die again,
Know nothing but suffering and pain,
Inscribed on chaos’s palm,
No! No one can heal this pain,
Not even a soothing balm.
I have been born with ill-luck
The goods of loneliness,
I carry as a truck
Knows no joy, knows no happiness
How wicked life can be!
How happy will i be?
Had it been, we are choosers of our destiny.
I have died to be born again,
From my sweat have i strived,
Earned, and from it have i gained,
Pinned my name on few, before i died,
Suckled from the nipple of perdition,
And watched my life like a Television,
As it decays on the cold bare ground!!,
And like grass it withers,
Goodness, life filters,
Oh God, hear my voice sound,
The sound of my cry,
The cry of my pain,
The pain of my life,
The life of your son,
The son in your image,
I pray you!
Spare me the agony,
Of hell’s clutches too!!
written by Rowland Emmanuel
da_emperor20@yahoo.com