Glass

So I raise the glass and drink up all the sorrows.
To that I wish all the complications would blossoms
into which I thought would fade.
But instead it took a more difficult twist and turn.
I can't drive with a straight head in this windy road.
I need a guide that can lead me to the other side
of that road.
A place where I belong, a place where I can feel peace.
There's always no easy way to gain what you desire the most.
A bit of blood will be spill from the wine that we drink
to reach that last joy at the bottom of the glass.
Year after year I seek for it, I'm afraid to dive
to the bottom.
Is it worth it? Is it worth the risk? What if I drown?
What if others would suffer?
So I kept holding on to the glass. I hold it so tight
until it cracks.
I tried to fix it back, glue it together back again,
hoping that it would be the same as before.
I tried to find the pieces but they have been
dissolved with the solution.
I'm still holding the glass, it drips and I can't tell
what's inside.
Should I drink it or leave it to dry?
I'll just keep on hanging on to that last drip to save
the best for last.