My heart's sad again; wants to write a verse
Dipped in bloody melancholic tone and depressing words.
I think, and pause and think again
To look for words that match my pain.
I have poured out my heart, the piece is complete,
Everytime I write, I consider it's no easy feat.
Now I await to know if it's written well
How well it's received, I cannot tell.
The work is praised, the goal is achieved
Much was left, a lot was conceived
The mind's ain't at ease, though the heart is glad
At this juncture, should I be happy or sad?
