Unfortunate Me

I am like a bird with a broken wing,

The azure blue sky is a distant thing,

I sing and sing, but I sing in vain,

For it mingles into a cry of pain.

I cannot fly up to the sky above,

It’s a shattered life without love;

For deprived of love what remains

Is parched earth, thirsting for rains!

The dazzling sun is then a hateful orb,

 This accelerates the yearning throb;

Of earth’s vibrant heart—but oh no!

There’s no one to hear its tale of woe!

I am like the forlorn drooping flower,

To succumb silently to a torrential shower,

Of grief sorrow, and stark humiliation,

 A tragic end! Without any compensation!

Who will write upon my stony grave?

Here was a pathetic little flower brave;

Will anyone know that I faded away

 To blossom somewhere another day?!

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Who will write upon my grave?