I’m tied up to the bed
Can’t react , can’t even think
No freedom, no life set…
My life is stained with ink.
Can’t hear, can’t talk
No reasons to wake tomorrow.
Can’t see my faults,
I’ll just sleep in sorrow.
Can’t see, can’t smell,
Only this pain I feel:
The pain of the guilt…
Guilty of being ill…
If only I could taste
Again the joys of life,
I would take it wiser
And avoid this fight.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário