just a dot

the sun climbed the day
toward the west
as the world took rest
 a lady lay
on the cold bed of pain and sweat.
Bloodied hands took that was naught
to destroy that was to be brought.

As she fell asleep
in one corner,
the unbehest Figure starts to weep
over the murder
of HIS own dear.

A decade and 7 years on,
i hear the wrong
her sorrow, ringing with mine.

How i wish, i’d know you unborn
foetus,
today i mourned,
the death of my forlorn sis.