On my face, however much I smile,
The intrigues of pain will be printed.
On my voice, even though jubilating
The cry of lived sorrow will be heard.
I sleep and wake to find stress gone
But the memories of those them days!
I saw corpse at four years and I was torn
The hyenas hovered over them gunned
And I felt hearts they've lost and shunned
As I scrolled to their sight, my cheek got hit.
With strength of heart guided by humane mind
I tried to scrawl the humiliation but hard
At five pen I couldn't hold on paper firmly.

I cry-called on them by their names mixed
But who the deaf of beasts dare heard me.
If I was just a kid on blood of world
What of minds would I hold after such!
Mysteries, shadows, and blooded spirits
In the midst of grinding teeth of the nyigat
All laid low and cold with thin form of line
And their atmospheres thin and thick dusted
But then who of monsters stood up to sight it!

Ever since I was a teenager what haven't I saw,
All the red and yellow of hurdles with the garmented harries
That took all the forms that killed my short lasted seniors
Leaving less to hold on control to whisper a word of wisdom
But here I talk of one-two that could have changed the eagles
With their piercing head outgrown telescopic clogged eyes