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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Other · #452143
Its not the step mother who is the villain!
Upon the terrace,
His favourite place
He lie pensively reflecting.
Life sees very few good times.

That hospital room still haunts
The death of his mother.
That day haunts;
Heart in two.

The call from the new woman in house
Snapped him out of the dream
There she stood in kitchen
With the coffee.

His eyes spit fire
His actions like an anchorite
Antipathy for her love
Apathy for her attention
A man in a dudgeon was he.

She tried to be his solace
Removing him from stupefaction
Compassion during tribulation
Unconditional love for bludgeony
Sleepless during his nights of pain.

Love cannot be forced!
Virtuous abyssmal patience she needed.
It came because she commiserated.
Her efforts were all but alienated
She disdained to hood grim reality

But nothing could countervail her march to victory!
Victory-love from her foster son
No...Her son!





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