Forlorn faces raining tears
Like murky monsoon clouds;
Tossed between hope and fears
Like children lost in crowds.
As fragile as an autumn leaf
That sways to the moody breeze;
A life docile that hangs in grief
Fallen even by a sleazy sneeze.
The bitter seeds buried in time
And watered by sweat and tears;
Will sprout one day from their bloody grime
And live a thousand years.