The backdrop of ripples music to my ears
The strain of a new life beyond my creativity
Flower blooming in the aching pain of my crust
Breath of fresh air a phoenix from my aspiration of dust.

Imagination runs livid in the sepulchre of the mind
My fire will not take roots in your life so exceptional
You were destined to born, live and die in this tomb
My unconceived daughter, this angry father’s mind was your womb.