We’re damaged people,
All of us, sin souls,
Sometimes we’re better,
Sometimes we’re worse,
And sometimes – close.
Why is somebody
So willing to hurt,
Unintentionally.
But deep in heart, –
Mine is always cut.
I’ll be optimistic,
I’ll smile while it bleeds-
Because life is a zebra,
Which gallops in savannah –
With black and white stripes.
Sometimes, in the evenings,
I sit on the black one,
But stripes can’t be endless,
The white stripe can always
Cure me again.
And I will be happy, -
A moment or two, -
To fall in the black,
To swallow my offences,
With broken defense.
But life is a flower
Which grows in the desert.
It’s hurt for its lifetime,
But once in a century –
It blooms.
Can’t I be like that flower?
I’ll live in this desert
Of pain and abuses;
And once I’ll bloom,
Feel my happiness.
Just to die in peace.