A fugitive

Feeling like a fugitive,

Being not able to show a tear,

weeping every single day,

not knowing what to say.

More empty than a smashed pot,

Never can I see a point.

Why are men so furious then?

Not dreaming they're awoken.

Why shall I stay with them?

What d'they provide me to gain?

I will leave them to be alone,

yes, I'll trow away human thorn.