tears scratching my face
I turned 60, in two decades
nobody by my side, I’m limping
a moth surviving amongst butterflies
my life is nothing but polished lies
a child stabbing the mother’s womb
regretting the day they shared a tune
but she left her flowers in home
to die, whilst she got lost in rome
then she recalled her flowers are parched
the water is out and the walls are hatched
dry clouds did not rain for 6 months
they screamed for help to make thuds
amend the broken ones! split their pain
to bloom and grow without fears again