Sparkatale

Midnight comes forth the harsh of their screaking

Moon is grinning in the midst of winked stars

In a path you are alone, keep walking

Trees on each corner will drown you to doubt

New born sobs, “Sob... sob…” Chill runs on your spine

Superstition is deceiving your mind

The sound retains harnessed the throb of your heart

And now frigidness is looming behind

“Hoot… hoot… hoot…” The sound is boosting your fright

Skin's hairs raise in this terrifying night

As the new born is kept on in crying

Instinct is doubtfully tracing the root

“Sob… sob… sob…” And slow rustle of bushes,

you find a child, thought says, This is madness!

Yet arms are shivering to tap its head

Silence smashes as you carry this poorish

And now those wrinkles retell you to rest

For them are heartless to face their madness

That I’m as a doctor as that poor child you'd saved

Until death, I carry on your kindness