Quarter of the time, a storm broods
The sun camouflages as the moon
Days drag behind like a snail
Labours yield meagre returns
Shelters are shattered by quakes
Dying souls depart to decay
Survivors have no life after
Earth is the mother of hell
And even water brings no healing.

Quarter of the time, Cinderella doesn’t get the midnight miracle
Doctors don’t save that stillborn
Dreams remain dreams
Nations preach rebellion
Even mothers kill their babe
Tomorrow may never come
And all these times, we must keep a cheerful face
For the other times, when even wrong things turn out right.


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