Sometimes the heart mimics a stone

To guard us from the arrows of hurt

"Filter the voices in your head

Trust the goodness of nature

Time is a majestic soap

It will cleanse the doleful hue and mend the harrowing crack", whispered the sparkling river.

The bends go sharp and steeper

The mist grow hard and thicker

How much she tries to progress

But she ends up crashing inwards