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I sit on this sick chair,
Rolling dice upside down,
Calculating disfigured figures,
The answers, a sticky solution.
The pin that pierced my sole,
Made my hope to hop,
Only a surgeon will give a treat,
Perfectly well.
Was told my time will come,
Suddenly like His second coming,
My tears will see it and run to hide,
My poor smiles will toast my cheeks.
I throw stones to my glassy sorrows,
Let it break, I need a break,
I won’t apply any brake,
I will keep throwing.
I will keep throwing,
Stones that can break glass,
One day I will find
A diamond instead.
