Empty Head Poem by dechen lhamo

The work of English,
Keeps away my childish,
Without any proper dish,
Not even a piece of dry fish.

Are my mates doing the same?
Oh! They are busy with game,
As if they are for it came,
Which would lead to a blame.

It’s impossible to compose,
When I am reluctant to propose,
Something with great purpose,
Forcing the failure to impose.

No, no, I should try,
Or else, Tutor will cry,
Making my lips dry,
Heart on a pan to fry.

Tik, tik, tik, , , it’s 12 morning,
But nothing is creeping,
And my heart is burning,
In a fear of something.

Yet, my head is empty,
Page is not pretty,
Rather it is dirty,
myself felt great pity.

Dechen Lhamo