She wished me abundant joy
But I am a depressive

My letter and my boys
Are my soul confessive

I'd like to have a purpose
But life is drift and roll

No way to stop the time
Or make the fragments whole

Fame comes to some
They become a name

Others know the Silent night
Know not why they came

I'm tired and I'm lonely
I miss my darling sons

Life is suffering
Shakyamuni, I'm not yet done