Author Information
Empty Cry of a Fallen Lady
No one cares for her cry,
The one of those with large breasts,
Even if anybody seems to symphathise,
It’s just fake, looking for a chance to bulldoze, to try.
Whatever the problem is,
Time, for her, is money with which,
She needs to buy oxygen, forgetting her much loved skin,
This being the only choice, let alone dating disease.
Her very existence is chained within chains,
No one gives a damn whether she breathes or dies in untranslatable pains.
