Thursday, March 20, 2008

White Hair

The day i look into a mirror
I saw something odd
This silver lining
on my head top

I thought it was nothing
I did not care
where my strand was
or what happen

Another month pass
where yellow shadow came
It shook me by the collar
but i don't really care

Now the mirror look into me
it spoke of a tired man
trying to achieve
but of no hope

I smiled and shook my head
There was always hope
I thought
But it always leads to disappointment

The white strand grew and prosper
The old man wane and wither
since when young man have to
See this day:
Where sky falls and hope shatters
Where dreams dashes and fire extinguished
Where wrists cut and lines drawn
Where great men broke and loyal wives turned
Where coward lives and hero passes
Where gods laughs upon mortals
While we look up

To look up is such a thing
That we don't realized
Where we are
Where we come from
Yet we tell them
We are the children of god

Enough of this,
I admit,
I am tired.
Tired of life itself.
Tired of everything.

Still the white strand cherish
While yarn chained
Such were the irony of
How a young man knits.
He said upon himself,
Does he deserve all this?


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