The Orphan

Hopeless and battered a tear is shred A pierce deeper than a coal bath in a furnace as settled in mourns of grief Upon a time in a destitute; The dreams and hope of the yesteryears has the vacuum swell None a friend, though an embrace a warm bath to freshen the disquiet and throe; A smooching is all but a tickle Far from reality, The fermented tomb crisps the dear whom Our heart held in esteem not to cleanse like decay It stinks! To the dear soul none rather than an adventure in long At the perks of expectations a heart thought to pummel and a soul comforted Night dime shall scare for a candle lite in find--- And more thousand tears rolled in scripts for ceaseless winds of the memorials to carry along Either sought Shan`t breathe the gone a life To stray our hallucination.