short poem
My roads lead to wells with no water.
Weak passersby shall not be comforted.
Blessed with fruitlessness,
My trees provide nourishment for none.
When the rain comes, it avoids my bubble.
It does not want to contribute.
Quickly waning is my moon.
It does not want to shine for me.
Even the sun finds ways to always cast shadows.
It does not want to love me.
Weak passersby shall not be comforted.
Blessed with fruitlessness,
My trees provide nourishment for none.
When the rain comes, it avoids my bubble.
It does not want to contribute.
Quickly waning is my moon.
It does not want to shine for me.
Even the sun finds ways to always cast shadows.
It does not want to love me.