TIRED

Sick and tired
of hearing you dying
Your words are rotten
I have no debts
But you have thousands
And you'll never pay them
for you are to busy
just with yourself


It seems your problems
are never ending
Your eyes are swollen
Your cheeks are red
I wish my hands
could reach your neck
To help you get there
step by step


The lack of meaning
your life has shown
makes me wonder
and want to ask God
why did he send you?
why are you there?
or if it's to hard
to give you a hand


I only wish
for this day to end,
for that wanted moment
to cease in your head.
I swear I will help you
if you let me in
but it is the last favor
you get from this hand.


08 de Febrero, 2007
Belkis