How many births ?

My childhood was observation,

              Youth awaiting the life ahead-

By the time it unfolded,

              My dreams became dead.

Time flew-

Hopes tore, sewn, patched and repaired.

World, as I had thought,

              Never really cared.

Hurt filled up, somehow,

Few moments of joy shared.

Trust broken again and again-

              A pretence is what appeared.

Nothing seems right anymore,

              Nothing which makes me feel healed,

Nothing  which I’d wake up to-

              Nothing for which I’d be zealed.

How do I clear this clutter?

              How do I revive myself of this fear?

How many births would need me

              To be crystal clean and clear?