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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Hopeless world* Hopeless world, I sat and wonder how the world has become, Hopeless world, For we’re all sinners in this world, But the only thing that set us apart from this rust dust we breathe… It is the way we rise up through this dust filled with many dirt, For we are all sinner in this world, in this place of so much hate, Keep on climbing these hills of holiness, For you might nev’r know god might be impressed? In this world of so many wonders, In this world of so many wonderful tears, In this world of so many sorrows, Keep on climbing these painful hills, For you might nev’r know how beautiful the deck might be after the pain? Keep on climbing and climbing these hills, For you might nev’r see beyond the deck of this pain if you’re not trying? In this hopeless world a mother has to die a child has to wear an image of an old, In this hopeless world, the tomb became a mother to a child, In this hopeless world love slips away, Hopeless world, For we’re all travelers in this world, invaders, intruders, In this world of so many sorrows, Keep on climbing and climbing these painful mountain valleys, For you might end up feeling comfortable to stumble through the deck of this pain, This hopeless world took my mother, This hopeless world took my child, And this hopeless world the critic has become my friend, Hopeless world, hopeless world… I’ve been here many times before, But every time I sit in front of this world, I often wonder why there is no door of a smile, peace and happiness, I’ve been here many times before, Standing and longing to see the shadows become colorless, And every piece of breath i draw, become an art to decorate my tomb, I’ve been here many times before standing across this hopeless world, Watching and watching as good days become a dawn in the hell, And every piece of breath I drew through the face of this world, Become a history to read in tears, And every moment that passes away, Become a samber to a dancer filled with pain, In this hopeless world, the love is no more, Only stitches that art our hearts to keep us connected with our lord, End of poem 3
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