The Sore Flower Buds

The Sore Flower Buds

In each of their dormitory room

They are snuggle, not bloom

A place that should far from the gloom

Now feels, just like it is an asylum

Are those long robes still excite him?

Or the holy verses and hadiths

That mounts in his brain

Just disappeared far from him?

He act as gentle as an angel 

But found inside that he's a devil

He has crossed out his holy title

They are thirteen buds of flower

They are graceful just like aster

That hopes bloomin when the sun higher

With the thousands of hopes, they wishper

To become a religious warrior, they manner

Their souls now growl in the silent

The pistil tarnished with violent

Wish themselves prickly when it happened

So, to this fall they can prevent