You were once the fresh one
A golden maize and soft bread
Stainless steel, pure and sweet.
Now I see your leathers torn
Feathers falling, leave are dead;
Dropping from the shadow sun.
All the sheets once made of gold
Are now stories ashamed of truth;
Mended irons, supported by threads.
Heard he raises his hands on you
And you are scared to ring bells
Seems he has got a spell on you.
How long would you be patient
Hoping he quits such habit
What love is there in violence
You hide injuries and scars
You are so unbelievable
Like the legends and the myths.