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
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