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.'