Hatred
Hatred
Can't believe
Those beautiful eyes
Look down upon me,
Can't believe
Those pink lips
Speak ill of me.
Why a true heart
And his handsome thoughts
Are disheveled?
Why exchange of love
And trueness
Are not reciprocated?
When I sit
And ask my aloneness,
It pronounces to my oblivion,
'It's your echelon,
It's your echelon that
Makes her bosom to emanate hatred.'