Cog - wheel of nature to steer

numbered the days
one ,two, three ... seven
and whatever it's far or near
The wheel always to steer

you're fragile and finite
but you're to suffer ,
At last life to transit
in very next sphere ,

Crudely bitter is the soil
raw and all happiness
a momentarily joy but
soaked in salty tears ,

All the days are same
as you carry yourself
being stagnant and rotten
stripping off the past O'dear

and beneath the polished
crust!gaping wounds in its core,
Charred soul is shredded ,
Whole across stretched the tears

and I carry all the pains
And mounting burdens to next .....
as it's always been existed
truly before end! So near !