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THE ACHE
Growing is the pain experiencing from narcotic land
Where soul touches with viperous arrow
That thrust without healing angels,only dready dearer
Who collecting python's venom to save the death's action
Another one is the man who belching fire to chase away the pigeons
So also the drunkard who umpiring with nefarious gourd
How about the farmer who planting the seedlings of the drought
That may possibly ripe an harvest of famine
So also the man who mining tinket silver and unexploited the gold
There may also be man who claiming the tribal feud
Can We forget still the ram that speaking like forest sapient?
There seems to be a rain that spitting only but pattering as a seam expect
Likewise sun that setting but unscotching
Same with moon that eclipsing dusk
And skieness that preventing the outing of the dawn
Crops may grow but the readiness for germination threatening
By the poor ventilation providing by mother earth
So who dares the man that sue the Heaven for his contemptuous notion and ration?
