Whose life is this? I think I know,
It's owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown and cry hello.
She gives her life a little shake,
And sobs until her tears do make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant leaves and birds awake.
The life is sad, desperate and deep,
But she has promises to keep.
Until then, she shall not sleep,
She lies in bed with ducts that weep.
She rises from her bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in her head.
Facing the day, full of dread,
And idolizes being dead.
