Privileged as the heir to the gold beans
You grew up with the roots, groomed in greens
The sun was your filter from darkness and gloom
The ample rain poured nicely in your luminous room
Such infliction you need for the ontogeny
Yet the ontology stayed backward in the prophecy
Your leaves you left sunbaked till they crumble in sorrow
But the hollow life they left behind will start anew tomorrow
For you that is, when you germinate to a chromatic colour
When a little girl pluck you from that tree of wretched valour
Because the leaves aged but you were beheaded
The leaves went with the flow but you were molested
-PRK-
