Woo Of Tears Poem by Adookorn Auaduma

I am myself own consumer of woe,
when my love suffers contempt
In quest for a woman to woo.

If she doesn't care my heart wroth,
Why will I bother to procure
a wounded love that defile cure.

I wander nude and fey,
on the exhausted paths of love
where infatuation shred my heart.

If she doesn't feel for my love
why must I bother for her care -
even the love that must not endure

Though the sky give birth to the sun,
and smile her morning glow
If she turn her apple to the sun

With a curse to deflate the air-filed balloon,
why will the deflated burn at a curse
that can't wreck the dilipended in dure course

If at the terminal of my linear breath,
women gather to recount my failures,
be it poverty, situation or speculation

If they spit and mock at my shell,
why should empty shell shiver at the unruly -
who doesn't know carcass is but glassy shell