In the chills of those sprinklers
These shivering hands are bleeding.
Bleeding the ink on the bright glamour of whiteness,
And roughness yet serene looks of this inked morn
I cannot but just able to break these concrete wall
A thousand ton probably,
I'm underneath this hard-core stuff!
Gulped the last **** of splashed pity,
Can't hark anymore.
**** your ****** core!
I don't really see any empathy or comprehensiveness
In the pale skin of yours!
Hey, ever you see through those reflectors!
Well, I do.
Thanks for your *** to be concerned.