Procreation is the only duty,
Every living’s entitled entity,
Xeroxed faces and qualities,
The rest are simply the fancy.
The kindness is a horrible lie,
That can’t be sent through a mail,
The sympathy is a contagious mimicry,
That can’t rub and wipe out the misery.
The world is full of liars, masters to speculate,
When tomorrow is unknown, we think of rainy days,
Either we can leave behind the fame or the genes,
Care for the fellow human who are in trouble.
The lies soothe my heart; keep me in temporary delusion,
Not have to know about the reality or the truth,
Those may shackle me with depressive hooks,
The comforting lies are too good: not to say the hurtful truth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The comforting lies are too good not to say the hurtful truth. Enjoyed the poem. We are fortunate to have you as a poet on PH.