A Matter of Odd

A matter of odd A matter of odd It is matter of odd to me cause some are engaged to banda my town Since the creation of world Even God does not dear to banda again Once civilazation began It took pace of forwarding with motion I know no none valoured to stop To do banda and stagnation Culture in my town geared A timidity to win stopping speed of lives In place of running vehicles I unwittingly noticed plays of children In those unknown faces of children, a pain Loss of education and a matter of odd But defeating with vandalism, if spoken My town closes doors of morning Still I rear hope sun and wind Do not share with them And emerges far from the top of hill As usual, then I breathe a hope of death of banda.