Lone

Stripped off naked, She walked past Through the weary path She knew not where she went Birds chirping and hovering, The sorrowing songs from the crickets. Trespass her humble mind Leaving her with no choice than to sob With her bare feet, She tries to pamper the noisy rustle From the dried leaves Which in turn makes a jest of her Her shadow, Makes a Foss of her Not being tender at all Forming disfigured figures around her Her pale body, Bearing the benevolence Of a rumbling and grumpy stomach, The worms and intestines entangle Deficiency she wears, Her hair all scattered Like that of an impotent rat Lingeringly looking low Patched with pains, She looked above. Seeing further, She reached for what she saw. There was a rotten apple As if the raven had witty pity on her Alas she found peace, When she hopelessly Laid her heavy head Amongst the pine And distressed in the pool Of her bleeding juice