The Girl... Poem by manoz shrestha

How can you glide around without any sorrow;
How can you arouse jouful intuitions within my grief;
I apologize ma'am but I must say that you're a theif,
Abundently easing are those resemblence though little narrow.
Hold your eye-brows still as your eye-lids low-
With assumed rest under shades of spring's leaf-
'Waiting you are' as an actor; put on the belief;
Chronic cuts of joy; healing, blooming yet shallow.
She, her eyes; they shine like sun in my heart,
Her countenance; a constant lullaby to slumbering satan in me;
Her voice to these ears is least but all there's to be heard;
So s happy fairwell I gargain with death for me.
If God dwells in around then then he owes a lot to her
So I beg him to be a little insincere..