I
The man wrote poems,
probing his numb heart for
something divine,
while secretly wishing that he
would cry.
Wishing he could cry and break
down,
remove these cruel rationalities'
gowns,
and demand a long life for his
mom.
The ironies wrecked emotional
crusades within,
but his efforts to draw tears
went in vain,
he finally slept as his energy
drained…
II
In the dream his lives' maternal
angel called,
said her blessings as she always
does,
smiled and cheered at him,
despite her hurts…
She suffered the stutters in her
will to speak,
to lay her hand on his head as
the chaos seeped,
It happened on his birthday,
beside the cake hurting his mom lay…
III
And in that very dream, as the
man died,
caught unawares, the inner child
cried ...
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