Under the age of eighteen,
Eight months on the back.
Tight with the lace,
Not Kangaroo pouch.
But looks it must be.
Her body other parts
Revolves very fast.
In every direction,
Not taking single second
To sit and stare.
Almond's shape eyes,
Dry as raisin.
Leg and hand,
Looks as like sand,
As bone peeps with green vein.
Appear apparels covers,
The other body parts,
But the chilly cold surpass.
But the numb hand continue,
Erect without any rest.
Fingers of leg shrunk,
As like crab,
But she still in position.
In the open firmament,
No fear of season sheer.
There is agony of pain,
In which she burn and run,
But who cares in this world.
Where we only stand and stare,
And then forget, who cares, who cares
And be unaware.
