The Silly Question

Will I bleed and bleed for ever?
Though my blood on me feels gentle,
Goes beyond my tears, this pain,
Just for grief, it does not settle.

Some lives ago was, my mind,
Like a bird for it was rebel,
But it lost, someday, its wings
And had earlier lost its feathers;

Does my mind recall the kid,
But his smile cannot remember;
On his cheeks the, warmest dew,
Had his ghostly hue but reddened.

Not ten years and I started wandering:
Will I bleed and bleed for ever?
Though, a doubt there was by then,
Which I miss right now, I reckon.

Now I see the future making
Such an earthquake from a tremor.
Unafraid to call me dead,
For a dead I do resemble.

People tell me I should be
Just a bettor, for the better,
But so innocent my heart
Does not follow that direction;

And then, nothing to be done,
All is darkness, all is terror.
Sadness has made, for itself,
out of tears of mine, great treasure.

As I write, I am still wandering:
Will I bleed and bleed for ever?
Will I ever find the answer
For that silly, silly question?