As the dark envelopes the sky, I hear a plea.
At night, who it is that I can't see?
Who cries so hard that it makes people shiver,
The one who made a puddle a river,
A child, a diver.
The sky burns in a golden hue.
It angers on the plea that isn't given due.
But the plea is outreached and cannot be understood,
Even with a hoarse voice of allude.
I don't believe she's rude.
The night that the stars and moon hid,
The darkness that turns into a wavering red yield.
Your tears continue to flow in every turn,
As everyone lose bits of what they've yearn.
Lightning hits and everything will burn.
She will repeat her plea over and over again,
as people cover in blankets and sleep in their den.
And like tears we cry, it soon fades away.
But time knows only when it'll come back one day,
and for us to wait and stay.