TThe mouth of Hell, tore from the sea
A black ship rose, from the heart of the waves
Crow's nest eye, searched for signs of soul
The first mate yelled, "8 Bells Toll!"

. . .

There are trees,
And buzzing  bees,
There are mountains,
Between them the sun rises,
Like a beautiful golden fountain,
The Cool wind blows,
And some prancing doe,
It exists amidst a forest,
There is a flowing brook,
Inside the Hut is a singing cook,
Cooking a tasty meal for the tribe,
There is no electricity,
No gas mobility,
No Internet,
People using fishing net,
To reel in their catch,
During the campfire,
They have a singing Match,
At night,
The mosquitoes bite,
But no one puts up a fight,
The wolves howl in the eerie night,
Howling at the moonlight,
This is what other tribes  pillage,
And this is an extract,
Of my hometown village

My heart is broken,
My heart is frozen,
Now I cannot feel,
I don't feel like eating any meal,
My life spins on a movie reel,
This is a big deal,
In front of God I kneel,
Begging like a seal,
To again make me feel,
To thaw my frozen heart,
To again start,
I ask for a clean slate,
I don't want it to be too late,
My life so far is not great,  
Or is this my ruined fate? ,
I ask nothing more,
But a lifelong soulmate.

I guess I'll never understand some poems...
I have never felt their pain.
And when it comes to the idea of love...
Well, some people are purely insane.

I guess I'll never truely know...
I have never walked in their shoes.
And when it comes to sadness...
Well, I rarely sing the blues.