Novembers are lonely
Novembers are vain.
November takes life of a mother -
Leaving behind her child in pain.
Novembers are the first time
Autumn kisses in the East
Rain, rain goes away
Welcoming the mist.
Novembers are the time
Lives leave the Earthly mud
Returning to heaven
Or hell even; spilling the blood.
Novembers are the time
Morning kisses very late
Nights are darker
So much absence of shade.
Novembers are crucial
For the ones who have born
On this month to the Earth,
The forever forlorn.
Novembers are weak
They make you feel hollow on the inside
Dwelling in a thousand anxieties
They leave you pellucid aside.
Novembers are the time
You first feel you're weak,
To know the abandoned harbour
Will soon be crowded by abundant of ships.
Novembers are pretty
Novembers help you build
A home inside your ownself
With walls of Brunnhilde.