Let me be like you - A stone

Neither smiling nor mourn

Even flowers turns to thorn

When it's placed to adorn

As a poem written

On a paper torn

Even if you die for it

You can't learn

Perhaps someone else

For whom you're born

Is there, as it's his turn

Awaiting the next birth, as my turn

I would rather die, before you scorn

Either you or the life will corn

If it would be the condition

You would be chosen as Severn choose Avon

Every day in the morn

I do start, with the belief on

Living a life like the Rising Sun

At night sleeping with Hope, of a new dawn