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
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