Will my soul stop bleeding?
I think it is too late for me to be good.
Such pain is killing,
But this is not reason of my sad mood.
What do I actually long for?
This is the question I never understood.
My heart is sore,
But I truly don't know where its root.
Going down with lost hope
I still crave for meaning in life.
Want it to faster stop,
But I am cut as if by knife.
Counting till seven
And starting again,
I hope there is heaven
Which will be my den.