A Wounded Person Poem by wander angel

Sometimes I cry,

Sometimes I smile,

Sometimes I laugh at a hard life.

I am a wounded person

Who suffer from what people do with all their maniac minds

But the only thing I found

I am still alive.

I did not die.

Today I can breathe,

Today I can walk,

Despite I can not sleep well at night.

' Is suffering a spice of mentality? '

' Is suffering a spice of life? '

I am so tired.

I just stop for a while to set focus on the other thing,

Not change my mind.

I am not a loser.

I will not stop fighting.

I believe breath is a reward of life.