I feel my path stony in detail
Perhaps mirth and joy curtail
What has infected my zesty soul?
Or perception responsible, my loss at whole
When I used to see dampening moon
To view to leave misery soon
Hovering clouds, not for petty darkness
But décor the beauty with sharpness
Who has dislocated, from the path of life?
Instead of roses, who cut them with a knife
Just a spark of love, requested I
A gentle hand to wipe my eye
When will I be a reason to live?
Ah! Ocean passions to whom I give.