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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Men's · #1479634
A WORRIED MOTHER SITTING WITH HER ILL-DIEING CHILD HAVE NO THING TO DO CAUSE SHE IS POOR.







A SILENCE THAT TORE HER HEART
A FOOT THAT CROSSED ONE BARE
A HAND THAT SUPPORTED A JAW
A HEAD THAT BENT TO ONE SIDE
A CHILD THAT CRIED IN AN HELPLESS ARM
AN ACCURATE EYE DIRECTION TO THE SKY
A LIP THAT TOuCHED THE OTHER QUITE
A COLOURLESS LIQUID FLOWING FROM EACH EYE
A TEAR-FULL EYE OF THOUGHTS,REGRETS
A CHILD THAT LOST A BREATHE EVERY MINUTE.
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