In the tale of an old storyteller I was born.
I was told, I was mystical since I had no one.
I was lonely, I was single, I never had family, neither friends, I couldn't make friends since I was left to fate.

Grief is my companion.
It takes me by the hand in a dark and a barren land .
how long will this lonesome journey last?
I am covered by a lot of people yet I am still all alone. I cried out for help which cut me to the bone.
They cannot feel the pain, hear the voice, feel the tears or touch my thought.
All the psins running through me. the hurt are so deep.
The wounds are scaring it hurts so much .

I wish I had died in my mothers womb or died the moment I was born.
why did my mother hold me on her knees?
why did she feed me at her breast.
If i had died then I would be at rest now, sleeping like the kings and ruler who rebuilt ancient palaces.

Don't tell me I'm not alone, when I'm smothered in my darkness with heavy thoughts.
my tears stained against the pillow, I sit up and look around the room to see that the only person there is me.
The only person who understands is me.
The only person who hears my cries is me.

Human life is like a forced army service.
like a life of hard manual labour, like a slave longing for a coolshade.
like a worker waiting for his pay.
month after month I have nothing to live for.
Night after night brings me grief .

If my troubles and grieves were weighed on scales, they would weigh more than sands of the sea.
You think I talk nothing but wind, so my wild words should not surprise you.
leave me alone, my life makes no sense.
I give up, I am tired of living.

© Juliana world