A stream of river reaching a place
Where lies a hut taking ones breath
A trail of road and food to suffice
lives a woman who sings of her death
Her hair used to be raven black
And the birds chirps made the river flow
Her tummy grew from all the love
No man to complain about it though
One day when she grew enough
Mustered courage to climb the tree
To see what the birds sing about
Or to kill that evergrowing curiosity
The place was what she'd expected
A vast land with nothing to note
So why the ping of disappointment
An unknown sadness with bitter throat
Moth died without a flame
River never reaching the sea
Road leading nowhere
All this world with no human or deity
Alone but having everything
Or dead without anything
A privilege of knowing
Or Hatred for growing













