My heart is bleeding,
Even as I’m writing to you, Enya.
I wonder when my joy will come,
Since I was a kid,
I struggled to be happy,
Staring the world straight in the eyes,
With hope burning in me like fanned embers,
When will the day come?
A focused girl,
A determined girl,
A pretty thing with lovely eyes,
A well behaved girl,
A smart and reserved girl,
Above all Enya, a patient girl,
But my strength is already failing me,
I may not hold on any longer,
I’m writing to let you know, my friend,
That I may escape and return no more,
When will the day come?
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They said being a good girl pays,
They said I should keep holding on,
Take a look at me, Enya…
Wretched, penniless and confused,
Life gradually losing its taste,
Reminding me of the insipid meals of years ago,
And yet it continues,
Thinking of the day when I will lay and bask in happiness for a whole day,
Without thinking of the pain of yesteryears,
Or the mysteries of the unknown,
When will the day come?
I admire young ladies of our kind,
Lily, Eva, Rosa, Prisca and others,
Who seems to have it all easy,
Lucky girls with beautiful star signs,
They struggle less but seems to have it all in a clinch,
While I struggle all day with little or nothing to show for it,
Weeping has become a ritual,
A second nature in which I solicit the needed succour,
I’m tired.
Will I ever have a happy ending?
Maybe I’m merely existing,
Probably my life is a teaching to many,
When I thought the happy ending is few steps away,
I suddenly view it from miles away,
I’m floating away,
Someone should help me,
Because I’m tired.
Yes, since I breath, I hope, but…
Will my happy day ever come?
