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.