"I see my face, forming over a cloud.
It was a jocund stage, away from the crowd.
It soon faded away, but didn’t turned me sad.
It’s my soul, not sole, don’t stab it hard.

"I thought of them as joyous, rustic.
Even, a nightmare was never that linguistic.
The scars and scribbles kept tarnishing my card.
It’s my soul, not sole, don’t rip it hard.

"I was amazed, bewildered at the fact.
That they weren’t those, they always enact.
Maybe, I was the one who found mother hard.
It’s my soul, not sole, don’t cut it hard.

"Just hoped of playing with a Toy Truck.
Still was happy, with these pain stuck.
I saw, who quilled the shrubs in the backyard.
It’s my soul, not sole, don’t gnaw it hard.

"My grave drizzled, but never bleeped.
That’s how peacefully, a 13 year old could sleep.
I was finally dig, deep in the dreary backyard.
It was my soul, not sole, which was torn apart.