By Shawn Marc B. Carreon
Such pity and such disgrace,
The damsel takes haste,
Opening doors to another place,
Either solace lies or countless days.
It felt like triumph, to overcome such tears,
Of whom I envied as they flow down feirce,
They fill the cracks in your face which I couldn’t embrace,
I wipe them off, so that envy is erased.
What have you done to deserve such distress,
Could you not stain your pretty dress?
For isn’t that pride, that you cherished most?
I shall build you back up with the sorrow you boast.**
