Frail friendship fretting in foreboding
Of a funeral of one abandoned child,
Who dreamed of peace- a little seedling-
Emanating youth in his tender mind.
Father beat him up,
Mother silently left him,
This little life was about to grow up.
One day, he saw his mother call him-
Back to one new warm abode, father's cane hushed up.
No father, no pain,
It's like a blessed haven.
No hell of fright and no threat of malevolence.
Everywhere one motherly affection-
Parading a paradise in the peace of innocence.
Father's eyes glisten in the same old hell,
And the thin slim cane conjures bitter memories.
So he longs for those days,
And he can not but yell-
At dead belongings burning in his eyes.
Suddenly I wake up with sweat beads on my forehead.
Things look dead though they gaze at me,
Ruminations rant and revolt in my void head,
And I plunge into my dream in my Real regime.
Questions haunt me...
"Is it the hell or a haven-
Or my dream..
Or a reality
Where children scream??"
Unfinished Business
11 years ago
