Baskadia

Sometimes when I think of the troubles;

I feel It doesn't make sense.

Other times when I worry about your irony;

It fillls me with thoughts so endless.

The joyful times;

The mourning moments

In my head they ring like chimes;

Leaving me in astonishment.

The hurt and the love;

The times your roads were smooth and rough.

The sting and agony of pain and death;

You strike without Mercy and to a great depth.

Oh! How gruesome you cut deep into us like sharp knife;

I have nothing else to say other than such is life.