Love's putrid smell, is e'er so enticing
Thus grasp thy heart, leaving thee, suffering
As human empathy — 'tis always flawed
Thine emotions, play'd whilst leaving thou awed
What ye, see as true love, thou see thus crude
Thy shackled core, seest nein faults nor flukes
After ev'ry passing day, ye doth brood
Contemplates this; "I, been used just like rooks"
Thineself, aware of what transpired for thee
Thou surmised "Alone, will mineself e'er be"
Complex'd view of what perceiveth fickle
Thus seeketh peace and find thy tears trickle
— Shuma