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.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed on September 11,2004.

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