Oh what do I write? Nothing strikes me.
The old Well behind my house doesn’t kindle me,
Our back house little boy's peeing like a fountain, doesn't awe me,
The Old man who keeps staring, staring at our window until his eyes bulge out,
Neither does it anger me.
Devoid of emotions,
What Am I to do,
His mom's visits dwindling out nowadays,
Doesn't make me jump and yell with delight.
That brat of a boy, who scratches my new car daily with his cycle,
My hands doesn't twitch to twist his ears red.
Oh What I'm to fill out here,
For you to read,
Or to tell you about the old salwars in my closet I pull down on me effortlessly,
That seams and curves that finally releaved that I have a hip,
Do I brag about that achievement.
Oh What do I write,
Have I been drained of emotions?
