Like a dew drop on a withered morning,
Like a snow flake on a heating tub,
Like a pinch of sugar in a morphine,
It pulls you out from a stinking hub.
You hold it tight to that dying chest,
Promise yourself to let it live;
You wrap it with your thin arms, lest
It will forget how to breath.
"It is my dream, please, do not tear it."
You cry like some maniac in pain.
Life, but, vainly gives you the jilt
Saying dream is nothing but a lain.
Thousands of times have you been defeated,
Thousands of times have you been slained,
Thousands of times catastrophe was created,
That you can now endure the pain.
You, now, smile when you watch murder,
For your soul is becoming shatterproof;
The screams of agony doesn't make you shudder,
Your gentle soul finally is aloof.
