My dear
You will always leave here
For I have been there
Down the valleys and mountain top
I have rolled tires
With my pantaloons on
I have watched the secondhand of time stirred
It is not that I was eventless
But anxious,
To notice all hush-hush underneath the sun.
My children
Play with mud
Get my wipe
And receive your beat.
It is not that you are wrong
Or I like you shed tears
But,
Just call it parental care.
Out of curiosity
I have created, destroyed, and repaired.
I have been beaten
By lash and objects.
On my check, palm, back and buttocks.
Even when I lie,
Or say the truth,
I must always payoff the deeds.
I have smiled and I have cried.
Like the blubbers of babies,
Brothers,
Sisters,
Mothers,
And fathers had snivel.
Life goes on.
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