She is the rejected stone
that not even moss felt
her long presence
under, nor earthworm.
Neither is there a root
of any grass that leaks
her buttock, not also ants
Whilst rain fall, fall and fall
not t’watch away
the hatred of her
cursed hatred, the cloud remain tall.
The moon comes and fade
the stars sing and sink
still, the cloud blank
smoking the smoky smoke…
Telling the black colour
of a cursed hatred.
