I have her.
An eternal beacon of warmth and grace
—but she can\'t.
My lord, why didn\'t you give her even a little?
You gave dad to grandpa
but took him so early from mum
Lord why?
Brothers you gave me
Found their ways in trials
But came back hands flapped with dirts
Another to the forest,lacked even a fruit for jaw test.
The eyes watched long a day,
Hands crossed, flapping up and down.
In the holes,big like small craters,
Cried sweats and sweated tears.
Palms swollen, the folks playground
Lord why?
Even that \'one\' with a one,a zero then a zero
will do.
Let the ends meet, for the young to paint purple this sprinkled red and blue.
Let black too be talk of yesterday.
My eyes glanced…
With a whispering sigh, the moment hushed,
A silence pregnant with anticipation,
Then, a click—so sharp, so sudden—rushed,
Echoing through the air, a proclamation.
It pierced the stillness like a silver lance,
A tiny sound that held a world of weight,
An orchestra conductor\'s subtle dance,
Commanding attention, sealing our fate.
Another one,there he is.
In the realm stormy strife,
He braves a harsh and tough life.
Running faked blues to Sunday,
Fighting for his Monday.
Muscles obey all the weights,
the skin all the whips.
He has to reach Monday,
just to delete black.
I will brave the darkness,
Nightmares and I, twin sisters,
Just to to paint yellow and green.
But purple will do more.