The Mindless Fog. Poem by Hardik Vaidya

I do not understand my family.
The children of my dad's fathers loins.
Not their children, most are younger to me.
Those elder are my guardian angels.
A few of them the loin lions gender irrespective,
Roar without a cord in perspective.
They think their brains come from the mind of gods poor hole.
My grandfather was a man of eminence,
Not a rich man, neither a known man,
But a man of great sufficient self importance.
Gave self esteem to a thousand kids,
As a teacher in school, and a man in drool.
Humble, loving, encouraging, and foolish.
Honesty killed him in best of her cruelty.
But yet he did not leave the art of living.
His own sperm receivers,
Got the tails of his eternal wails,
I have to get a vaccine for bites by the fog.