hot may weather
you sow this field of paddy
and reap every grain
on your sweaty palms
the blades you plowed
cutting each root
you cultivated this fine land
which bears every seed of life
while you were harvesting these grains of rice
you have forgotten to mill the husks
you took every grain hidden
as your pride that never failed to loose
YOU ARE READING
idle
Poetrynot the most perfect art piece of writing but i can guaranteed that every thoughts and feelings are being poured out.
