The Brick Wall

Why do swords always pierce my aromour
Why does steel turn to cloth within me
Why do my weapons melt and shatter
Why do my own devices betray me

Why does the balance never shift in my favour
Why do the fruits always get diseased
Why do my crops always fail
Why does the sun always go down when I want to make hay

I’ve had my share of cough syrup
And more by a few dozens
Will I ever taste the taste of honey
Or is my life going to be just a dreary desert

Let me too taste the strawberries
Let me feel the joy of a successful birth
Let me se my flowing fields
Don’t make my eyes accustomed to sad scenery

Or teach me the art of drinking down dregs
And learn me the ownership of sorrow and despair
For then may I smile if at naught
At least on the pathos of my worldly affair