Dejected..

Lost in yellow wood..of dreams..

She rejoiced in pain..

Pain that resented in the heart of the innocent figure..

Figure that resided behind those deadend walls of the womb,

Womb of the mother..who loved her never..was a crook..

Mistake it is to refer to her as a crook..

It wasn't taught in the books in form of brooks.

She saw the butterflies,

She saw the birds..

All had a mother but she didnot..

Wished she had the love of joy..

Wished she saw the bright sunlight..

Wished she was loved by all..

She loved the birds..she loved the butterflies..

They flew away in fear ..that she would harm..

Alone she loitered till she saw a glimpse of the pale moonlight..

She heaved a sigh ..the sigh relief..

Relief that she had been able to believe..

That nature was her mother,

The tree sheds were her shelters..

There alone..she would die and would live.