This strand I am dearly holding
a grasp to continually live
Obstacles and trials are often overwhelming
Peace of mind, the thing I’m deprived
People say, it’s a constant turning wheel
I say, that’s just an excuse
My life is cursed, that’s what I feel
See, I can’t even refuse
On my lonely night hours, I creep
to the sea, I drown till I sink
On my deceitful day hours, I feign
to be as happy as they think
I want to punctuate an end to this
what’s the best thing to do?
A rebellion, an escapade or a suicide?
Then someone whispered, a prayer will do.