Saga of pain lies in the act of the reaper
In making our heart sour and bitter
When a widow who mothers a single lad,
At night, shown her son buried in sand
Her tender bird, she has always fed in cage
Thinking the lad would grace her old age
Her happiness and joy that make her sings
Ripped by death, while her heart stings.
Albeit everyone owes death a pending debt,
And everyone shall later be buried in dirt.
Why collateral with a widow’s only lad?
To whip her in solitude and strip her unclad
What recompense could make her apay?
The agony she feels, when other kids play.
A widows gold, born and raised in agony,
Such crime reaper! Is worth than a felony.
The indelible scar proves too deep.
Every second trauma that makes her weep
Just as the tale of the widow’s son of Nain,
She is left to tell her tale in saga of pain