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...