Composition 109

A father who stuck a needle on both eyes

A mother who sees not I

A brother who longs of us…

A society that crucifies without a cause…

Of dreaming,

Never ending,

Only to wake up alone and lonely…

What am I to thank for…

That I still is breathing…

That I still hold a pen…

That I still have papers dry…

That I still have pillows to cry…

What am I to thank for…