HOME TORTURE


Her enchanting eyes,
Her melody voice;
Her hairs movement in the air-
And dear full swing of hand-
To make new sketch in the wind;

Her play, for catching the butterflies
Her tone in the sorrow voice;
Quiver tweets in happiness
Always new verse and call
How you are happy at all?

But that all was before us
She don’t want to go home, only rush
She was tortured by own
They want her to stay home tide
And don’t be stronger for get your right.