Out of the pain in her heart, her eyes somewhat speak

Because of bereavement, remedy for her became so hard to seek

Through what seems to be the end, she still attempts to find

The vision of hope that lies to be elusive and undefined.

With her burnt hair and nearly bald forehead,

She stands to be a victim of abuse that never abated.

With her every gesture, you can easily come to the point of realization;

She’s asking for help, but she’s given no attention.

Beneath her experience of seemingly endless ruination,

She lies defenseless with what future forced her to don.

Setting your eyes upon her would give you both terror and pity

For the sight of her appearance reveals human iniquity.

Let the rain fall on her with all its might

Let the clouds turn gray with anguish at her front

Let the thunder join in with her rumbling feelings of deprivation

To let her release what to her was laid upon.

Concealed by this generation’s enticing and upgraded ambience,

Her world has been characterized by unidentified violence.

And what such woman to us humans serves to portray—

The phantom image of Mother Nature whose children have strayed.