Golden brown,

blue and green,

sad eyes reflect scenes.

He sees all,

from above,

while I am destroyed, disgraced.

How much more,

should my wounds bleed,

how longer must I hide them?

No peace in the day,

toiling hard,

bearing loads of thankless souls.

No rest or peace even at night,

seeking meanings to survive,

why not make the sea my home?

Hit the reefs,

may the lifeless body drown,

at least, let the soul find peace...

Like Prometheus unbound,

Can't I too break free,

from cyclical agony?

I laugh at her words of love,

And her Creator,

Says despair is sin.

Who to trust,

how long to bleed deep inside?

Countenance is a dried-up sea.

I smile to hide my storms,

currents destroy me within,

my tempests crush me daily.

What product of sin I am,

to sit and seek for true love,

when they love outward beauty?

Troy's Helen,

is also afraid and scared,

to come here and sit with me.

None to talk,

none to share,

my riddles of destiny.

Me happy?

What a trick -

Are these depths deeper than me?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed on the night-morning of July 16-17, 2002.

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