White

White blank and dry it was,
dear I had to try,
picked my graphite.
tried to write.
heart heavy as stone, no words pass me by,
eyes trying to see the dawn but the picture was a disguise,
Hands fighting with my mind sprit and soul,
words which fall there on the white blank sheet could'nt say it all,
dissembled my feelings what I wrote was not to be defined.

I am not

I’m tired of life playing tricks on me,
I’m tired of life,  it’s what I’ve heard so many times,
I’m so not strong to play this game called life.
I’ve troubles undefined, tears so many almost lost count,
I’ve no hope left, just counting my days, waiting to see my end,
I think, then what if it also turns its face from and denies?

I’m still grieved by the day when I was born,
I still feel to why the sun shone that time,
I had to be a blessing for someone, but have I placed a burdening hand?

I’m still not relived; breathing too hurts me inside out,
I smile to make believe, and for others I’m still a heartfelt glee,
Could I ever be found in this lost time?

I still not know when will the suffering end?
I still don’t know ?
I still don’t know does the grave exist in which,
I’ll someday turn sand?