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RESPONSE TO A FRIEND ABOUT SPECIAL CHILDREN
Sometimes, the world looks ethereally beautiful,
Like the beloved's smile when the heart yearns,
For just a glance, a loving nod from her.
Just the way it was when I loved and lost,
Jilted and jolted at every spot,
No matter where I was, with her.
Today, the moonlight does not bring joys,
Or even a smile to my diaphanous gaze,
And even on those -- my daughter, my boys,
Because all her ilk are just like her.
You send me letters my dearest friend,
From another corner of the earth's end,
Telling me about special little ones:
Maybe they too came from those like her.
Do no talk of pain and grief my dear old chap,
Life is just like a thunderclap,
That shatters my soul like a scorn-filled slap,
Me and the little ones because of her...
And so many others just like her,
All they want is the luxuries of life,
Unaware of what means a loyal wife,
Or ignorantly pretending like a knife,
That cuts and leaves what it does incise,
All of mankind is special to me,
But can you imagine the heartrent WE,
A father and his children three?
And who is there to come and help,
Or lend a hand when we slip against stealth,
Or comfort us when
those like her along with her,
love to only yap and yelp?
Tell me my dearest friend from a land afar,
I am afraid to see a shooting star,
That follows the devils that come to mar,
And drain the heart and soul of the blood,
Can you bear the pain of a violent thud,
That breaks you inside and out,
Thanks to her and all like her,
This world's filled with such betrayers--
What must one call them, except, vultures.
