When thou hast no heart,
Make no clay to be smart,
And color it not for thy sweetheart,
Coz’ clay and heart are apart.
When we are in lovely earth,
We’re suppose to cross untoward,
Thunder storm might visit when we walk,
And when the rain start,
The fate of clay is to depart,
Change into particle and unearth.
Ye knoth human survive with heart,
How hard we come across,
The gift of God,
The heart is there to survive us.
The heart of clay is never the same,
It wash away when it rain,
And never to be seen again,
Coz’ it washes away to far distance.

* * * * *

This poem is for those who think love as a game.
Love is not a game, please don’t play love.