The Empty Belle Poem by Monsur Titilope

She thinks of herself; I'm so beautiful,
Not to mention my stunning posture; so fanciful,
Sights herself in the mirror and sees it bulged and meaningful,
All to the grave, you know that's truthful? .

An idle spirit - less obsessed about her future's prosperity,
Walks briskly and being so naughty,
It's my time, let me enjoy myself to the fullest,
Her beauty is just trivial and no other to regard as a quality.

Men chase her here and there more often,
Who is that damsel afar? ; Yes, that's her at the backyard,
They want nothing than making her supine and sad,
Then, ailment and calamity befall her and nothing to reckon.

All what she deserves, she gets and already late to repent,
She turned an object of mockery and attaint,
She reminisces, feels nostalgic of her pleasurable life,
All to knew it, it fades and realized she is just an empty belle.