She had a transparent yet a corrupted soul,
Unconditionally loving the loved one
Feeling way less for a walking stranger.
Biased was her soul
Bestowing too much care to the people
That meant world for her
Ignorant were those with her feelings
Or her unwavering affection for them.
Her wasn’t a saint soul
For it expected not whole but a little
Till it withers with every disappointment at last.