The Heart Of Turmoil. Poem by Rudolph Adidi

It beats as the rythm of thoughts rows its brain,
It bleeds blood of unending pain.
Albeit it never shares the gain it suffers from,
it lets thoughts dance in it even during nights of prom.
What does it want?
A fitting hand that lets seed of happiness plants?
What does it want?
A hand that never shatters it plans?
I wish I knew how well to handle,
even though I solved the case of darkness using a candle.
Why is this not giving a sign?
Or perhaps should I choke like the leaves of pine?
Open up says the conscience that speaks and occupies good.
Whats wrong with this dude, why is his heart so rude?
I watched the unending steps if makes to the painly door,
this time he walked with smiles on his countenance that never came from the core.
Having no hopes of the blind alley,
other hearts kept tapping him sorry.