Help me,
so the other children I don’t hurt,
help me,
so to my parents’ words I always submit.
Fragile like a flower,
fine like a powder,
soft like the plump’s skin,
mundane acts of συμμορφωθεί.
What purpose do these hands serve;
Who do they serve;
Youthful wide smile,
and eyes lush, of life,
yielding I whisper…
All the other children I’ll love,
I love them like they love me,
I embrace them like they embrace me,
carpet in their halls I’ll become,
no step further like in a muddy lawn.
Oh stars and parents,
start the mending like it’s meant,
to be done in a second,
meet me if you will,
at the end of the ruffled filament.
I love the other children,
I’m the soil and shoes for other children,
while I’ve got no umbrella.