A stressful mind,he is hostile but mine,
a floating feather,in a windy weather,
happiness is not with us,
no rainy clouds,the flower withers,
no goals yet,we are not winners,
i read the bible to burst my negative bubbles,
young with a wrinkled skin,young with a messed up spleen,
it’s the thoughts,
only if happiness could be bought,
i could be far away in my boat,
talk with a low tone,
talk with a soft voice,
a blind man’s room needs no light,
a stressed man’s mind needs a light,
the dark thoughts,
the duck floats,
i know He sees us,because i believe in Jesus,
i believe it will pass,
and the flower will blossom again.
Dark hands 