Inside my body,
And inside my mind,
There’s a little child,
A child with colours—bittersweet.

I know not if she’s sad or happy,
But I do know she loves to paint,
My body in a colourful tent,
So I let her be.

Now that my body has grown,
The tent doesn’t fit.
But I do not complain,
For I do not wish to see her eyes watery lit.

Every night I lose my sleep,
In wondering,
If she could have a world’s peep.
But alas! My darling,

Will never receive love akin to mine in the world.
Even if the tent becomes cold,
I must stay.
I don’t think I should ever let her go,
Despite my body’s dents.

Being smothered in a colourful tent,
Is better than seeing my darling woe.