Old Lady, feel your breasts
Know, they’ve begun to sag
Your eyes will soon begin to bag
Count your moments, now on
Sooner, in your palms you’ll see stains
of the wounds of my past.
You’ll hear this world call out your name
in such abhorrence you’ll breathe
your last with no one around
like an orphan
and, on that day I would come to life
to ask you, how it feels
of having to perish as an orphan.
Mark my words