THE END OF THE WEEK

 

 
All pens have been already used,
And sweet warm words have been rejected.
In the end of the week I’m confused,
I know that the poison’s been injected.
 
Again I’m sitting in front of the book
Trying to find out the essence of life.
But the only thing that I always took
It’s not the answer, no-no…it’s the knife.
 
I don’t like to cut myself with this,
Because it brings just horrible grief.
But what can I do when bad thoughts squeeze?
I don’t wanna get wound, but a sense of relief.
 
It starts with a harmless dream:
“Oh, that’s so nice! I’m doing well!”
But later the thought turns into a bloody stream,
Which takes you away to a burning Hell!
 
Those cruel demons are torturing me there,
They’re rankling my soul, not the flesh.
I’m bleeding, where’s the blood? Where?!
I’ve lost my mind, it seems like a crash.
 
I’m swinging back forward like a doll,
I can’t stand to be so broken and mad!
This misery! It makes me to howl.
And I won’t stand up cause I’m dead.
 
But I’m not a dead body without breath,
Just a sick man with his own distress.
All people, I’m sure, come across ugly death
And reborn after that without a creepy mass.
 
So don’t be scared when it comes to you.
It will bring you pain, but that’s for good!
After that you’ll be given a clue,
After that you’ll be given a good mood.