Comments about Vasanthi Papu
A Poor Girl's Plight
A pretty little girl stood under a tree
And let her mind wander free.
She battled to expel her endless pain;
But all her efforts ended in vain.
The dainty butterflies give no charm
To the heart that bore insults and harm.
Even the waves touch the shore and leave
But her troubles stick hard just to grieve.
Right from her birth nothing went right,
Mental agony and misery bound her tight.
Of course misfortunes never come single
With her, fever and fret always mingle.
Joy and peace shut her the gate,
Born of poor parents is her fate.