The cloud thicken with distorted hope
Our flesh rapidly ****** out
In *******
In sicken rag with stinking scents
The odour of poverty
Repels Her souls

At the corner of Her broken world
Sat still with melted chains
Her tears
Driving a hole on her tattered skin
As Her backbone seems crippled
By hoarders

She yells in a low whisper
Claiming for empathy
Her voice also seems broken
And so, none luck up to her corner

While she sat in Her emptied shell
Stretching forth for a fight of faith
She watches her future lights outraged in darkness
As Her only Hopes re traded like betrothed Goats

With aching pain
Her silk in ***** lace
She strive hard for a starling bridge
Give Him a book "
Build up Her pride"
She moans with a strain of wreaking hope

Raise your head high"
A whisper then said
"Its called the good fight",because Faith is a fight..