From A Pessimistic Womb

She from sure fraud birth came
From a bitter womb

Her face, a joy drier
Essence of torment
Lying deep in her mortal being
A typical passworded hate in form

Her love is as impossible
As finding dry soil at the ocean’s bottom

Not in her equation to be happy
And delight was a light not in her sight
She is a sad quantity

Gloom is written all over her
Capable of draining your little joy’s light out of you
Gladness, a word not in her dictionary’s soul

She seems like a wedding
But sounded like a funeral
From a pessimistic womb she came

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